Timeless Mortalities
by SonoSvegliato
Summary: Alfred F. Jones, time traveler supreme, believes his life sucks. He trudges through each of his assignments, asking questions but never getting answers. Then his Counter, Mattie, disappears without a trace. He has no choice but to use the help of immortals, people he never knew existed. They're looking for their own answers- but first they have to know where and how to get to them.
1. Chapter 1

**(Old): Hello! I started this story with the help of a writing prompt, and almost ten months later decided that it'd make a darn good fanfiction if I finished it. Let me know if you like it, and if you hate it, please tell me why! I don't know how often I'll be able to upload, and hopefully it's not too bad. This is an eventual USxUK, and maybe PruCan (or PruHun? Can't ever decide) if I can fit it in. I do not own Hetalia or any characters.**

 **(New): 20,000 words into this, I've concluded that there will be no Prussia ship (I like him better single, anyway), and am unsure if it will remain USxUK. It is slowly growing towards FrUk as in FACE, though I haven't actually written any scenes that aren't more or less platonic. I'm better wit side romance, I guess. To make up for it, a preview of some upcoming characters: BTT, Nordics, possibly the UK brothers, Lovino and…SEALAND IS THE BEST GOSH DARN TIME TRAVELER YOU'VE EVER SEEN!**

 **Thanks,**

 **xx Sveg**

* * *

 **Summary (Old (But still pretty good) (but still old. Story has changed.)**

 _Alfred F. Jones, time traveler supreme, believes his life sucks. Always having to work and never getting a break, he goes through each of his assignments without asking any questions. It's better to just get 'er done._

 _Then, his Counter, Mattie, disappears without a trace._

 _Without his Counter, flares are popping up in timeline after timeline, and Alfred has no where to turn to. He barely knows how to work the whole time-traveling thing_ with _Mattie. He's desperate and doomed and sure that the world is going to end, and it'll be all his fault._

 _Arthur Kirkland refuses to have this imbecile ruin the universe, and no one is allowed to beat up Francis the Frog but him._

 _Together, Alfred and Arthur embark on a journey in search of answers: where is Mattie and Francis? Who does Alfred really work for? Why are there so many mistakes in time?_

 _They might never know._

* * *

He woke to the sound of pedestrians out on the street, and then to the light streaming through the blinds. He rubbed his face and attempted to bury his head in the sheets, but the air quickly went too stale and stifling for his comfort.

He threw his legs over the side of his bed with a huff, arching his back and running his fingers through his hair. Sometimes, he really, really wished everything would just go silent and let him sleep.

A garbage truck rumbled past the house, and he scowled, flipping open the timepiece looped around his neck. The miniature watch worked, ticking steadily, but what should be the numbers 1-12 were instead small, unidentified notches on the dial. He squinted through bleary eyes, trying to determine whether the little hand was on the eight or the nine.

He snapped the case closed, shutting away the ticking face into the simple silver locket. He studied it in the palm of his hand for a second, his pulse matching that of the reliable tick-tick-ticking of the watch. The timepiece was a little bigger than a dollar coin, and though it had lain against his skin, the silver was cold to the touch. The chain around his neck was thin and long, and when he returned the watch back under his shirt, it skimmed the skin a few inches down from his chest.

It wasn't as marvelous-looking as it really should have been. Though, he wasn't real sure what 'should have been' actually looked like.

The sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door roused him from his thoughts, and the noise of that person storming in completely had him on full alert.

"Your late," he grumbled, getting up from the bed.

The other boy crossed his arms. "I am not. You are."

"Yeah. Because you didn't wake me up."

"I'm not your servant, Alfred."

"Well, you _are_ my Counter."

"Exactly. Not your servant, your Counter. And I wish you'd pay more attention to that."

"Aw, I thought that you already knew I loved ya, Mattie," he teased.

"Oh, don't you start. Get ready- pancakes go cold quickly."

"Chocolate chip?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"Better hurry and get dressed to go see," Matthew replied with a sniff, though he was smiling slightly. "Get to it."

"Why can't I work in this?"

"Your pajamas? Alfred, you aren't going to travel through time in your _pajamas."_ He slammed the door closed, and Alfred stalked to his drawers, rummaging for a clean shirt.

"Can't I get a break?" he muttered to himself, sticking his tongue out at the door.

"No," Matthew shouted, hearing him. "And put your tongue back inside your mouth; you aren't a child."

"Who says I had my tongue out?"

 _"Alfred."_

"Alright, alright, jeez." He got ready as slow as possible, just to annoy his Counter further.

"Fine," he heard Matthew say, "you get cold breakfast."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He tugged on a plain red T-shirt over his head and rolled up the hem of his jeans. _Shoes._ He picked up the mound of covers on his floor and snatched one Nike, jamming his foot inside and scrambling for the other.

He washed his face in his bathroom, sliding his fingers once through his hair and scowling at the cowlick that always remained.

Looking in the mirror, he didn't look like anybody important: shortish dark blonde hair, a (not that he would _ever_ admit it) sort of baby-ish face, long arms and legs. Not to mention the glasses, which he slid on with a smirk. He looked like any other nineteen-year-old. Except, you know, the whole he-wasn't-a-normal-nineteen-year-old part.

If he was even nineteen.

He threw open the door to his room, and very nearly hit Matthew.

"Your shoelaces are untied," his Counter sighed.

"I'll tie them later."

Matthew shook his head. "Really, Alfred, you should hurry up in the mornings."

"Would you like me to try again? I can do better if you like." He waggled his eyebrows and smirked. Matthew didn't smile, but chose to scowl instead, shoving him down the stairs so fast it was a wonder he didn't fall down them and break his arm.

"You know," he was grumbling. "I'm your Counter, which means I'm supposed to survey you working. But how am I supposed to survey you working when you don't work?"

"I work! I work everyday! Sometimes I just wake up a little later, that's all."

"You _always_ wake up 'just a little later'. And I've caught you falling asleep on your assignments more than once."

"Only when you're giving me them," Alfred retorted. "And you know, up in Japan, falling asleep while you're working is considered a sign of dedication."

Matthew snorted.

"No, really! People even fake it just to look good. Maybe I want to look good."

"Well, sucks for you, because we aren't in Japan. We're not even in the same hemisphere."

"Well, technically, America and Japan are both in the Northern-"

"Oh, just shut it." Matthew glanced at his watch with a frown. "And either you swallow pancakes whole, or you come to the Circle immediately."

Alfred groaned. "But _breakfast."_

"But _work._ Stop being a sissy and come on." He turned the dial on his watch and went up in a streak of white.

Alfred edged towards the kitchen, eyeing the plate of pancakes and bacon wistfully. He was _hungry._ Matthew didn't expect him to go on an assignment _hungry,_ did he? If he waited, then his breakfast really would go cold, and all poor Mattie's hard work would go to waste-

He shook his head with a sigh, lifting his timepiece out from under his shirt and twisting the knob on the side without even needing to flip open the cover and look at the face.

Matthew was pacing across the floor with his hands fluttering about him. "You're late! Again!" he exclaimed, though hardly two minutes had passed between them.

"I was thinking about breakfast," Alfred said simply, jamming his thumbs into his pockets sulkily.

"Well, stop thinking about it. Think about lunch or something. Work first, needs second."

"Oh, I see," he responded facetiously. "Work before survival. Yes. Perfect sense. I understand now."

"Missing one breakfast won't kill you, Alfred. You're packing on the pounds, anyway."

 _"Hey."_

"As your Counter, I have the right to speak true."

"It's like you're reading it from a script or something," Alfred muttered, walking from the edge of the Circle and towards the center. The Circle was their meeting place, where Matthew gave him his assignment and he went out and did them, and once that work was completed they met here again, and Matthew usually gave him another assignment. The Circle scared him. It wasn't the open columns or large, gold, arched ceiling. It wasn't the floating feeling he got when he entered- no, it was the fact that it lay right outside the Present Timeline, a permanent fixture. He couldn't go back or go forward in time to it- He could only be in the Present Timeline.

"What's up today?" he asked, though he honestly could care less.

Matthew furrowed his eyes together in thought. "What Present Line are we in?

"Errmm…somewhere in the 2000's, I think. Twenty-first century."

"Ah, yes, I remember. Go back to Past; to the nineteenth."

"Details?"

"Landsford W. Hastings authored a book- the _Emigrant's Guide to Oregon and California._ Make sure a man named James Reed gets it." The book materialized with a snap of his fingers, and he thrust it in front of him at Alfred.

"And what will this book do?"

"It advertises a specific route leading out west that was never tested."

"Continue."

"There will be a group of families traveling west into California. George Donner will know about the route. The train will split. The Donner Party will take Hasting's route."

"Why's that?" he asked, though history bored him to no end, and he was only pleasing Matthew.

"They will pass through the Sierra Nevadas. And, because of snow, they will be forced to stop moving and stay where they are."

"Go on."

"You know, I don't think you're really listening to me."

"I _am."_ Half-listening. "I'm just waiting for my assignment, which, you know, I'm trying to get full details on, by the way."

"Well, the Donner Party gets stuck. And desperate, with low supplies. And, well, um… they'll resort to cannibalism."

Alfred shivered. "What! And I'm supposed to make sure this happens?"

"That's American history."

With a sigh, Alfred flipped the locket back open and moved it around the chain twice before twisting the knob on the side of the dial.

The white light swallowed him, and he smiled, because whether anybody liked it or not, he was a Time Traveler. And time travelers were, in fact, something very formidable to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**I've decided to try to upload on Wednesdays/Thursdays, since I already do 'Making Perfect' on the weekends. Also, I just like Wednesdays, and Thursdays are the happiest day of the week.**

 **WARNING: The setting was made up entirely in my head. I know little about the nineteenth century, especially anything before the Civil War. So the setting may be (or is completely) historically inaccurate. The only time I've been in Illinois was in 2014 in Chicago.**

 **xx Sveg**

* * *

Alfred checked his timepiece- yep, the 1800's. That was the first step to time traveling: make sure one was in the right era. Otherwise, one could end up blundering around New Jersey in the eighteenth century, almost getting oneself shot in the Revolutionary War.

He got up from the ground, peering over the wheat field he had landed in. No one was in sight- which was step number two: make sure no one saw.

And step three- his least favorite step- was to always, always, always _locate your Counter._

He never got why Matthew followed him on every assignment. If he could time travel too, then why did he leave Alfred to do all the work? He wanted to switch roles, but Matthew would say something philosophical like, "Everybody has to carry their own cross", or "There is no substitute for hard work", or "Stop being a little bitch, Alfred." Yeah, yeah yeah; blah, blah, blah.

"Oh Mattie, Oh Mattie," he called softly. "Where art thou?"

A Canadian goose dove down, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Good God, man. I told you to stop doing that!"

The goose hissed, and he shivered. "Jeez, I'm going, see? Don't you trust me at all, Matthew?"

The Matthew-goose honked, and Alfred swore that his Counter was laughing.

"Wow, okay, that hurt. But smart man, smart man."

Matthew hissed again, and Alfred started running because _holy crap geese have tongues and teeth_ and he was definitely not about to let his Counter attack him.

In the distance, the nineteenth century town was laid out before him. He kept his head down, continuing to hurry towards it, Matthew keeping a close eye right above him. Alfred didn't want to risk slowing down or dilly-dallying or wondering what this Past Line was like in fear that his Counter suddenly had the urge to shit while flying.

Dammit, why couldn't he turn into any cool animals? He really, _really_ wished he was the Counter.

He passed by a few pairs of bumbling oxen and a train of wagons. Men loaded crates onto them, and he saw women sitting on small benches inside, nursing babies while the older ones watched over the younger. Boys ran around the carts, and a girl of maybe eight was cooing over wildflowers, yanking them up from the ground and then running back to a wagon to show them to who was most likely her mother. The woman looked up from her child and noticed him staring, her eyes screwing up in an effort to get a better look at him. At the sight of what she must have realized as a stranger, she put a hand to her breast, and her skirts swished as if she were about to pull away. Alfred decided to push his luck.

"Excuse me? Ma'am?"

The woman froze, cleared her throat, and mumbled, "Yessir?"

"Sorry, I must look weird, huh? Oh, well, things here are a little different than from where I came from. What's this city?

"Excuse me?"

"What's the name of this city?"

"Are you lost, sir?" asked the little girl with the wildflowers, peering up at him with wide eyes.

"Just making sure I'm not, actually," he replied.

"You're odd."

"Yes, we've established that. Is this Springfield, Illinois?"

The little girl ignored him. "Where are you from?"

"New York." At least, he was at one point in time. He and Matthew tended to move a lot- did his Counter ever tell him why? Of course not.

"You're a long way from home, sir."

He leaned down to the girl's level. "Well, a man's got to explore, hasn't he? You look as if you're going places, too."

"Father says we're going to California."

"California! Now that's far. But it's real pretty."

"Are there flowers?" she asked warily. "What if there aren't any pretty flowers?"

"I'm sure there's pretty flowers in California. But just in case-" Alfred slid a small purple flower from her hand and tucked it under her bonnet. "You can save this one."

The girl smiled as he rose back up. "You speak strange, but you're smart."

Alfred smiled back. "With all this time on my hands, I have to be," he said, beginning to walk away before he could disturb this Past Line any further and have Matthew tell him he needed to redo the assignment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl wave her small bouquet, her mother staring after him in puzzlement.

Matthew squawked and landed at his feet, letting out a warning disapproving honk. _What do you think you're doing?_

"Oh, shut up. I was being endearing."

His Counter ruffled his feathers. _Endearing is not the same as extremely annoying. Get a move on, Alfred._

The time traveler huffed, his eyes roving for a lesser-populated place. The less people, the less sightings, and the less sightings the less chances he had of messing up. But the town was full of people shopping and packing and walking and talking, people enjoying the sun and people out on a mission. He was already attracting some passing stares due to his clothes- it'd be best to get inside soon.

He chose to slip inside a bakery. He could (one) see if anybody knew where James Reed lived, since the only thing Matthew ever revealed to him on assignments was what exactly he was doing and occasionally why, and (two) maybe get breakfast. Ha! Two birds with one stone. Heck, maybe even three- Matthew wouldn't be able to follow him inside as a big ole' giant, ugly, flapping goose.

It was warmer in here than outside, which made Alfred glad he had forgotten to grab his jacket. No one was here but the baker himself, who brightened at the little ding of an unknown bell as the door closed.

"Ah, a customer! _Bienvenue!_ How may I assist you this fine morning, Monsieur?" the baker's voice was edged with a lilting French accent. He had his hair pulled back behind his neck with a red ribbon, and he offered a slow friendly smile at Alfred.

Alfred dug through his pockets and produced a single nickel. "First, what can I get for five cents?"

The baker stroked the stubble on his chin with a frown. "Five cents? I'm not sure anything _I_ make is worth only five cents. Look here, Monsieur." He pointed at a finely crafted cake under the counter. "It took me night and day to complete this art, this masterpiece, this chef-d'oeuvre. This here should be worth ten dollars, but- _Non!-_ I am only allowed to make it worth five."

"Oh, well, I don't even have five dollars, it's only five cents-"

"Please, please, though: do not despair! I will help you find you something to buy. How can I, Francis Bonnefoy, allow some poor man to starve? Oh, look at you! Those clothes are atrocious; and I must do a good deed to please the good Lord above us. Let's see here…I suppose I will gift you with a loaf of bread for only five cents."

"But I don't need a loaf of bread," Alfred insisted. "I wanted, like, a scone or something."

Francis visibly paled. " _Mon dieu._ A scone?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Apologies, but we're fresh out of scones. No scones here. I don't think we make scones. What even is a scone? _Désolé_."

"Well, then what do you-"

Francis slid a jar of croissants over quickly. "You like croissants, non? I think you will find a croissant much better than any English excuse for food."

Alfred shrugged- didn't matter to him. "Fine. One crescent roll thing for five cents."

 _"No!"_ shouted an anguished, very British voice. "Stop listening to him at once! Don't move; I'm coming!"

A second man rushed into view, slamming a hot pan down on the counter and causing a poof of flour to plume up both from his apron and from the baked goods themselves- it appeared to be that the 'scones' were ninety percent flour, ten percent whatever was causing the bakery to smell as if it was on fire. Alfred coughed, swatting at the cloud of white dust.

"Scones, made by an English gentleman, not some disgusting French pastry deserving of the wastebask-" the man paused, squinting at Alfred. "What the devil are you?"

"Um…My name's Alfred?" he responded. "Er- I- mean- you two wouldn't know where James Reed lives, would you?"

"A Monsieur Reed?"

"Never heard of him."

"Non, non, I'm sure we have…but I think you might have better luck finding the man elsewhere- I hear he's headed to California soon."

"Oh," Alfred said stupidly, not sure of what else to say and turning to head back outside. "Okay. Thanks."

"No, no, wait!" the Frenchman cried. "What is your name, Monsieur?"

"He already said his name was 'Alfred', you git," the Englishman grumbled, staring after him.

"Monsieur Alfred! You haven't bought anything!"

"Uh. Sorry." He hurried out the door, and nearly had his eyes plucked out by Matthew, who screamed as furiously as a goose can scream.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I have to start over."

* * *

 **What else could I have made Matthew into? He's the personification of Canada, so of course he has to be a Canadian goose. It's the only logical animal I could think of that could be in Springfield, Illinois, in the 1840's.**

 **Yay! I loved making Francis a baker, I dunno why. We meet Arthur and Francis!**

 ** _Bienvenue:_ _Welcome_**

 ** _Mon Dieu: My God_**

 ** _Désolé: Sorry_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Before I start, 'quelle' I believe means 'what' in French, but forgive me if I'm wrong; Anglais means Englishman according to Google Translate. That's it- Enjoy!**

* * *

"That's it, Arthur," Francis moaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as soon as the door creaked shut. "You are going to be the death of me and our business. Stop being rude around the customers; it's not attractive. The pretty girls are scared of you."

"That young man was not a pretty girl, and I had perfect reason to be curt."

"Oh, do care to explain."

"The boy. Alfred."

"Oh, yes, I know. Where on earth did he come from? I can only infer that he crawled out of the depths of fashion hell."

"No! I just mean- I thought I sensed something."

"Ooohh. Magic Arthur makes a reappearance. Haven't seen him since the Salem witch trials."

"I wasn't going to give them a chance- that's not the point!"

"Is he magic too?"

"No, no, you make the whole thing sound absolutely ridiculous. I merely perform a refined science. But his aura…" Arthur paled.

"What is it, mi _Anglais?"_

"It's just- I never thought this day would come."

"What day?"

"The day I met someone that's more of a bastard than you."

Franci's eyes widened. _"Quoi?"_

* * *

"How hard is it to be invisible? You keep your head down and your mouth shut, and you interact with as least amount of people as possible." Matthew paced around Alfred, lecturing him on everything that he had done wrong.

"Look, dude. I'm not exactly inconspicuous when I jump around timelines." He pulled at his red shirt. "Do you want me to put on a costume for every assignment?"

"You're being ridiculous- you're always ridiculous. Can you not be ridiculous? Putting a flower in that girl's hair- you probably completely messed up that Past Line, you know that? Now you'll have to go back and not only fix that, but also still get Hasting's route to James Reed so that he can get it to the Donners'. And then telling your name to those bakers! No, don't deny it, I could hear everything just fine. You never, ever tell people your name! Haven't you ever heard of 'stranger danger'? It applies just as well in Past and Future Lines just as it does in this Present Timeline. Tell me: what am I doing wrong? Am I not teaching you right? What is it, Alfred? What aren't I doing right that's causing you to fail?"

Alfred put his hands up in defense. "Take a chill pill, Matt. It was one mistake-"

"One mistake! You've failed sixty-three assignments in the past two weeks- sixty three! And that's not even counting the ones I haven't had you fix. Do you know how behind we are? We're walking on a very thin line, a very thin Present Line. It could all come crashing down on us if you don't shape up-"

"Then why don't you do it yourself?" Alfred exclaimed, snapping. "It's not like I'm the only time traveler here!"

"I'm your _Counter._ I'm here to supervise, not work for you!"

"I don't need to be babysat, thank you very much. So you're free to go."

Matthew sighed, folding his glasses and pinching his nose. "That's not how it works, Alfred."

 _"That's not how it works, Alfred,"_ he mocked. "Then tell me how it does work!"

"All you need to know is that I'm here for you-"

"Oh, not that crap. Who's to stop us if we switch places? Huh? Wanna start with that?"

"I can't. Al, you know that. It's the rules."

"Always the rules! Where's the flipping handbook? I want to see it!"

"I can't give you an explanation for everything. I'm sorry. I didn't think working would be such a _problem."_

"Oh, no no no no no. Working isn't the problem. You're the problem. I would have gotten that assignment done if you would have let me stay. I wasn't doing any harm, but I guess being civil is a crime."

"You were interfering with past interferences. It could affect the Present."

"Then tell me: why am I doing these assignments? Or, better yet- how?"

"How?"

"Yeah, how! Why is the Past Line so messed up all the time? I'm not messing it up! I don't think you are! So who's fault is it? Let's just go catch him and be done with this whole thing."

"Time snags. It's not a 'who' but more of a 'what'. It's just the way the world works."

"So you're telling me," Alfred said, his voice low with distrust, "that time snags on _itself?"_

"Well, no-"

"That's what I thought. Give me a straight answer, Mattie."

"Just- just trust me, okay? Trust me."

 _"Trust you?"_ he spluttered, as if it was the most unreasonable request he had ever heard. "Trust you! How can I trust you when you don't answer any of my questions?"

"Alfred, maybe I can work something out, but you'll have to wait. Calm down. We've been working for each other for how long?"

"I don't know!"

"I'm afraid I've lost count as well. Uh, a long time. We've known each other for a long time. Give me one instance where I didn't lead you in the right direction."

"Give me one instance when I learned that my assignment had some purpose to it."

Matthew sighed. "Alfred."

Alfred crossed his arms. "Matthew."

"For the love of God, stop acting like a child. This isn't something you can through a tantrum over. Time-traveling is a very serious thing. I don't have all the answers."

"That's fine; I've got all the time in the world."

Matthew opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head and said, "Alright, let's go. Finish the assignment."

"Finish the assignment!"

"Yeah, your hearing's alright."

Alfred slammed the book on the ground. "Are you seriously going to do this again?"

"Al, I'm not in the mood to put up with you."

"Fine. I'm not in the mood to humor you."

Matthew closed his eyes against the flash of silvery white. He tilted his head up at the ceiling, and muttered to the people painted there, "Yeah, yeah. I know. I have to follow him."

And with a twist of the knob on his watch, he went up in a curtain of black, and the Circle was abandoned once more.

* * *

 **Here's something that happened last week:**

 **Me: I'm gonna be so productive this week!**

 **Anime Gods: OMG it's escaping CODE RED**

 **SNK (Shingeki no Kyojin): lol don't worry I got this**

 ***Time skip***

 **Anime Gods: Did it work? *approach me* *hears _Sie sind das Essen und wir sind die Jäger_ * Hey, Sveg. What are you going to do this week?**

 **Me: _KILL_ ALL _THE TITANS!_**

 **And thus I discovered the majesty of Attack on Titan…and finished it off quickly.**

 **Yeah that's it for Storytime with Sveg.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I wasn't at home for a good part of last week, and didn't have much time to write. But I do now! And Uploads should be more frequent since I think this will end up being my July Camp NaNo project.**

 **And thanks, itsukyon11 for the French!**

 **Also, huge shout-out to anybody who comments: lissale03, Krouel, itsukyon11 !**

 **xx Sveg**

* * *

Alfred found the most peace in the Present Line. Going too far in the Past scared him, and the Future was so strange and alien he usually steered clear. Plus, back in the twenty-first century, he could pretend that he was someone else.

It wasn't that he didn't like being a time traveler. In fact, he found it freaking awesome.

However, being _kept in the dark_ was not cool.

He stalked down the sidewalk, tempted to look over his shoulder to see if Matthew had followed him, but refusing to give him the time of day.

He couldn't remember a time without his Counter. Even when he wasn't in sight, he was always _there_. Always near, always watching and hearing him. He didn't hate Matthew. That much he knew: _he didn't hate Matthew._ He couldn't hate Matthew, because he was all he had. It'd be a little lonelier than usual without him.

But _gosh-_ he sure could be pissed at him. What was his deal? Asking him to trust him… _Pfft._

Alfred snorted. He loved Mattie like a brother, but that didn't exactly mean he trusted him. How could he?

They were friends…occasionally enemies…but mostly tolerant of each other. And-

His stomach growled, reminding him of his missed breakfast. His timepiece had sent him back to the city around midmorning, and so he took it as still acceptable to get a cup of coffee and something to eat. His eyes caught the faded green and blue sign of a cafè, and he immediately stepped inside.

The noise of the waking up city was muted as soon as the door shut, and the sound of sluggish morning chatter reached his ears instead. Good, it wasn't crowded. That meant no line.

The barista had his back turned, his arms waving to someone hidden in the kitchen. "Non! _Non!_ Cumin is not the same as cinnamon! No wonder everything you make comes out so terrible…" He muttered something lowly and barged into the kitchen, shoving another barista out. Alfred alerted the new man instead of his presence, smirking at the lingering sense of deja vù.

"Hey, dude. What can I get for five cents?"

Matthew was pushed to the edge of the sidewalk and nearly stumbled into the street.

"Hey, watch it," he muttered as he shoved- no, people were shoving him- throught he morning rush. No one responded. Not an, "oh, sorry", or an "excuse me", not even a sharp, " _you_ watch it".

He slid his glasses back up his nose, and lifted his chin in an effort to see above sidewalk crowd. Where in the world had Alfred gone? He'd never willingly go to the Future, and for some reason he was terrified of getting stuck in the Past. Which meant that he was around here somewhere- after all, his watch had lead him in his general area.

Alfred was always the one to blow up first. He'd never been able to match Mattie's patience, and in turn Matthew had just stopped trying to put up with him.

Why couldn't he just get his work done? It wasn't that hard, not really. Most people would be thrilled to be time-travelers- Alfred seemed to enjoy it, but he definitely wasn't interested in the duties that came with it.

How long ago had it been since he had met his friend? They had jumped timelines so many times that he wasn't sure he could produce a definite answer anymore. He had a _date,_ of course- but how many times had they traveled down the Past Line or up into the Present?

He decided to settle onto a bench to watch and wait for Alfred. When he was done cooling off, he could come find him so Mattie could apologize and he could apologize back. Or just dive straight back into an assignment, whichever came first.

 _1776,_ he thought with a smile. _What's that, nearing 250 years ago?_ Jeez, it seemed like yesterday.

It had been sometime in winter, perhaps late December or early January. The Revolutionary War was gaining speed, so he mostly avoided people and allowed himself to wander around the outskirts of Quebec City. It was snowing- no, blizzarding, and though he felt the bite of cold on his fingertips and nose, it didn't affect him. At least, not until a little while. If things got seriously uncomfortable, he could use his one yearly time trip to go into the Future- think his way past the war and into the Caribbean. But he wouldn't waste his precious jump on something so trivial as being _cold._

He flipped the cover of his watch and tapped its face thoughtfully. "Tell me when," he said to it.

To his surprise, the glass darkened, and he dove into the woods, afraid his heart might beat straight out of his chest and into the sky. _Now?_ He thought. _It was a rhetorical question!_

Black tendrils unfurled from the clock hands and tugged at his arm, and he bit his lip, resisting the fear crawling up his throat and focusing on the thought that it meant the watch's brother was near. Meanwhile, the thin second hand had become a fine trail of silver that shot through the trees.

He struggled to follow it. He stumbled through the snow, stopping every few minutes to reorient himself, as the silver was hard to follow in a world so gray and white.

His left arm was limp at his side- whatever the thick black tendrils were, they were heavy. He ran awkwardly, afraid and hurting and impossibly cold now. But the silver thread wouldn't wait for him, and he had no choice but to keep pushing on, keep pushing on, keep pushing on…

A moment later, he found himself staring at the open sky, and endless expanse of gray. Snowflakes seemed to be materializing out of nowhere, and the wind cut into his face and his fingers and toes throbbed. He must have fallen. The silver thread ran right above him, and he lifted an arm as if to grab it. That would make things a whole lot easier, wouldn't it? How far away was his watch's partner? He felt like he'd been stumbling around for quite sometime.

He wished he didn't have to chase after _it._ What if he just laid here in the snow, and waited? That wouldn't be so bad, right? His time traveler could find him. Give him a taste of his own medicine, since Matthew had spent quite a few lifetimes looking for him.

"It doesn't work like that," said a warm voice in his ear. He turned his head to see a boy besides him, sitting on his heels with his head down. He had on a soldier's uniform, red white and blue. An American rebel.

"Pardon?" Matthew asked, managing to lift the upper part of his body and lean back on his hands.

"It doesn't work like that," the boy repeated. "Now you have to start over."

"I-I don't understand."

The boy lifted his face, his eyes burning. He slid a hand into his coat. "What's there to understand?"

Matthew had the fleeting horror that he was going to get shot, right then and there. But instead, the soldier produced a small locket on a thin silver chain. His own watch flared and he cried out as his arm seized.

"You failed. You have to start over."

"But I found you!"

"Too late. You got to me too late."

And that was when he noticed that though the wind was harsh, not a single hair on the boy's head moved. Though it was freezing, he did not shiver and his face was not red. Though it was dim, his outline had a faint silver glow to it.

"You've got to find me again."

Matthew clutched his arm with a cry.

"They got me. They got me before you did."

Using his free hand, he fingered the knob of his timepiece. His one trip. It wouldn't matter as long as he managed to find the boy again; he'd get unlimited trips once he became a Counter. But if he didn't make it in time…his yearly trip was up and the boy would be gone. It'd take another forever to find the next timepiece-bearer.

He took a deep breath-

-and jumped.

Matthew stared at the sky, running his thumb over the watch's face. He'd gotten to Alfred in time, all right. Ran faster than he ever had in his life. As soon as he managed to grab Alfred's arm, he found them both at the Circle, whisked away from the harm that had befallen the first Alfred.

He rubbed his arm, remembering the ghosts of the black tendrils. Alfred always made it difficult to protect him. Couldn't he see that he was only doing his best?

He got up with a sigh. He'd wait for Alfred at the Circle. It was getting too crowded out here, and while Alfred enjoyed the company of others, Matthew did not.

He made his way into an alley– away from public view- to jump. After a moment of complete darkness, he found himself lying on his back, staring back up at the painted ceiling.

His heart stopped as a face leaned over him- auburn hair and wide eyes, and not Alfred.

 _"Ludwig! I got one!"_

* * *

 ** _HahahahahaHAH._**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, this is totally late again. I just got a summer** **assignment that's due the thirtieth, and I _just_ got it a couple days ago. So agh! Also (because I like talking about myself) I saw Finding Dory, which is amazing. Stay after the credits ;)**

 **Also, I thought I should put that I'll use 'Mattie' and 'Matthew' interchangeably. The same goes for 'man' and 'boy' in this chapter, because I don't like to use the same word twice in the same sentence/paragraph :/**

 **xx Sveg**

* * *

"Hey, dude. What can I get for five cents?"

The barista whipped around, green eyes narrowed. "Pardon?"

Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. Work's a little slow, and this is all I got on me right now."

"The only thing worthy of your nickel is a quarter-cup of cream."

"Wait, seriously?" His eyes darted up to the menu hanging from above. "A coffee is _five_ dollars?"

"Five dollars and thirty six cents. If you are unable to buy anything, then I suggest you find someplace else. You are wasting my time."

Alfred squinted at him. "Wait, do I know you?"

One of the magnificent eyebrows rose. "I don't think so. In fact, I don't believe I've ever seen you around here before."

"You've got the familiar-est of accents. British, right?"

" _English._ There is a very distinct difference-"

"Right, right, _English._ Gosh, I-"

Then it hit him. His assignment! He was there during his assignment!

He shook his head. No, wait. That was, like, two hundred years ago. The Englishman from Springfield could be nothing other than dead, unless he was the oldest man alive. But…he sure did look like him. And the other man, the Frenchie…what was his name? Francie? Francis? Was the universe messing with him, or was he just crazy?

"Sir, make up your mind."

"Oh, sorry. I was…thinking."

"Well, it's rather impolite to stare."

Alfred ripped his gaze from the man's face. "S-sorry. Uh…do you mind…do you mind meeting me somewhere?"

The barista colored. "Excuse me?"

"Uh…like…whenever you get off work? I'm-I'm positive I've seen you before."

"This is extremely inappropriate."

"I- er- I'm Alfred." He stuck his hand out, more of a peace offering than a polite gesture.

The Englishman rolled his eyes. "Really? Is that so?"

Alfred let his arm drop.

"We close at two."

"So you'll-"

"We'll have to see," The Englishman smirked, eyeing his chest. "I'm sure you can't wait."

The American let his hand crawl up to his neck, laying a finger on his timepiece.

 _Oh._

* * *

Matthew moved before he even realized what was happening. He made a flying kick at the other boy, who let out a pitiful cry as he went crashing to the floor. He lunged- tackling him before he could get back up- and put him in a neat headlock before anyone else could act. There was, in fact, more than one intruder.

Two more, to be exact. A stone-faced man with his hands jammed in his pocket, his bright blue eyes burning. The small boy next to him was just as expressionless, though his eyes were dark and slim, and he stood rod-straight with his arms locked at his sides. Japanese, he guessed. He couldn't give a nationality to the other; but his name sounded German.

The intruder Matthew had captured had fallen into such an ugly combination of sobbing and whimpering it disgusted him. He wriggled and squirmed and sniffled, but Matthew held fast.

"Ludwig, help me! Oh, help me; help me please help me!"

Ludwig did nothing- didn't move a muscle. He didn't even look at his ensnared comrade, settling instead for an intense staring contest with Mattie. Well, fine. He could play that game. His eyes narrowed, inspecting him.

Matthew was a lot smaller, and figured that though he probably wouldn't be able to take the man down ( _I mean, does he inflate those muscles?),_ he could easily get him close enough to the edge of the Circle and push him off. Unless he was another time-traveler, he'd just fall into oblivion.

 _Plus, he wouldn't actually kill him, not even hurt him. Hastag perks._

But he'd have the Japanese man to worry about. Not that he looked like much of a threat, but Matthew didn't want to come in any contact with the wicked-looking blade strapped to the man's back. He couldn't take two men on; he'd have to try to lure them both to the edge. But he'd have to do something about the sniveling coward he currently had, first.

He shook his head. "Who are you?" It seemed a logical thing to say. There was a chance that, while they were in _his_ Circle, they weren't his enemies.

But neither free men spoke. Just stared.

 _Okaaaayyyy then._

"Alright, tell me this. Are you friend or foe?" So, a little cliché. But again, a very logical thing to ask.

Still no reply.

"Look, I'm not in the mood. Answer or your friend is going to have a long, long trip." He got to his feet, dragging his prey with him. The boy had began to sputter a mixture of what he inferred was Italian and English.

"Oh, no, _per favore,_ we're trying _aiutare- Ludwig! Kiku! Per favore per favore perfavoreperfavoreperfavore aiutatemi! Aiuti! Aiuti!"_ He kicked and flopped, and Matthew tightened his hold. He went limp.

"Well? Are you going to answer?"

"What, don't speak English? I'm afraid the only other language I know is French, but I know a little Hindi if need be."

"I don't know who you are, and what you're here for, but I can already tell you it's a mistake. Surrender, hands above your head. Nice and slow." He backed up against a column, but shifted so that he could easily throw his captive off. "I'm getting a little tired. I don't know how long it'll be until I snap."

Finally, a reaction. Blonde-haired-I'm-Macho-Macho-Man slid his hands out of his pockets. Mattie held his breath, waiting.

"I am called Ludwig Beilschmidt." Yeah, that accent was definitely German.

"And your friend?" Mattie nodded his head to the man at his side.

"Kiku Honda."

"Why doesn't he tell me himself?"

Ludwig didn't answer. Matthew let it go.

"And the Italian?"

"My name's Feli-Feli-Feliciano Vargas."

"Well then: Ludwig, Kiku, Feliciano. What brings you to my humble abode?"

No answer. Apparently names were the only thing he was allowed to know.

He let the Italian out of the headlock- just to grab him better, of course. One hand clutched at his hair, causing him to yelp even louder, while the other hand had a tight grip on his shirt collar.

"We're the-the-the A-A-Axis Powers," Feliciano blubbered.

Matthew's forehead creased. "The Axis Powers? What the hell is that?"

"Immorters?" Ah, so the Japanese boy did know some English. He spoke as if he treaded a tightrope, looking to Ludwig for confirmation of the correct word.

 _"Ja._ Immortals. Go for it, Kiku."

The katana lashed out, and Feliciano screamed, but somehow it was Matthew who found himself falling.

 _His timepiece. Histimepiecehistimepiecehistimepiece._

But his watch was gone and his wrist was red with a stream of blood. Above him, Feliciano dangled from the edge of the Circle, Ludwig pulling him up. Kiku Honda returned his katana to the straps on his back.

 _"Ari gato,"_ he whispered, the Counter's timepiece tight in his hand.

* * *

Alfred shuddered as the last white flash faded away, his body tingling. He'd jumped a few hours into the Future. It was nothing much; Matthew surely wouldn't mind.

He rose from his spot behind a Dumpster and returned out onto the street. The city at midday was quieter- less people on the sidewalk, less cars honking in traffic, less birds singing. Of course, there was still quite a buzz. It _was_ lunchtime, even if it were a little late.

He had just stepped out into the sidewalk when someone grabbed his arm. "There you are."

Alfred immediately relaxed. "Oh, it's you."

Arthur huffed. "Why of course. I said two o'clock, and now is two o'clock. Were you expecting something else?"

"No, I just- well, it's just kinda crazy, isn't it? You know what I am."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. You do make it rather plain. Idiocy is a striking color, and not in the good way."

"What? No, I mean-"

"I know what you mean, timey."

Alfred sputtered out laughing. _"'Timey!'"_

The other man reddened. "'Time traveler' is a bit of a long term, wouldn't you think?"

Alfred smiled. "I just think it's funny. You call yourself a timey?"

"Myself? Oh, no." He shook his head furiously. "No, no, no. I am not of that type of _scum._ A time traveler!" He scoffed. "You think I'm one of _you?"_

Alfred's face fell. "You mean…you aren't one? I thought the girly guy must be your Counter."

"Francis? Good God, no. Francis is merely my companion."

"Oh." It was all he had to say. He was so close, so close to getting answers. He'd thought that, finally, _here was someone else who knows my pain._

Arthur sniffed. "I have, however, had the bad luck of meeting other timies like you. You all have the same rancid aura. You smell kind of like the Frog, and he always smells like cheese."

Alfred's heart leapt in his chest. "So there _are_ others!"

Arthur gave him a look. "Were you unaware?"

"Well, yeah. I suspected it. I mean, after all, it couldn't just be me fixing things up-"

"Fixing things up!"

"Yeah, that's what I do-"

"The only thing you time travelers do is make a mess. A great big mess."

"What do you mean?"

But the Englishman had turned around, ducking into the cafè's door. Alfred ran to catch up, managing to grab his wrist.

"Hey! You can't go yet!"

"Let go of me; I'm not leaving! I'm getting Francis."

"Is he a time traveler?"

"No! Not everybody you meet is a time traveler, you idiot! Where do you live?"

"Why?"

"Well, we can't much talk about your _business_ out in the open. People probably think I'm talking to a lunatic already. Plus, your house most likely has some type of privacy charm. I can't imagine what, since I should have been able to sense it…" he trailed off, retreating to some far off part of his head.

Alfred snapped his fingers under his nose. "Hey! I can't give you my address. Mattie told me I shouldn't give any personal information. You know my name, so I'm in huge trouble already."

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You aren't faking this, are you?"

"Faking what?"

"Stupidity, utter stupidity- Francis! We can clean up later! There are more important matters at hand."

Alfred shook his head. "Seriously, I should be getting back now. Mattie will be getting worried."

"Oh, no you don't. As long as I'm here, I won't have you jumping from timeline to timeline like a drunk man with bars anymore."

"But I have to get back to the Present."

"No you don't; you just think you do. We are in the Present now. Francis!"

 _"Oui?"_

"Hurry up!"

"Why?

"I've already said: important matters!"

"Aw, has _mon Anglais_ made _une connaissance?"_

 _"Non, je recontré le branleur!"_

 _"Oh, fabuleux!"_

"Wait, wait, wait. I don't understand French. What's happening?"

"I am merely informing Francis of our current plans."

"I haven't agreed to anything!"

"I'm afraid you have no choice."

"Well…then will you answer a question for me?"

Arthur took a moment to answer. "I…suppose that would be fair."

"If you're not time travelers, then what are you guys?"

His lips twitched. "You'll find out soon enough."

* * *

 **"Oh, no, _per favore,_ we're trying _aiutare- Ludwig! Kiku! Per favore per favore perfavoreperfavoreperfavore aiutatemi! Aiuti! Aiuti!"- Oh, no, please, we're trying to help…Please please pleasepleaseplease help me! Help! Help!_ (Italian/English)**

 _ **"Ari gato." - Thank you.**_ **(Japanese spelled the way I hear it. A.K.A My (sorry) attempt at thanks in Japanese)**

 **"Aw, has _mon Anglais_ made _une connaissance?"- Aw, has my Englishman made a friend (acquaintance)?_ (French) (I think _ami_ is used sparingly; more for closer relationships. I read it in a book somewhere) (And there is an 85% chance the French is wrong)**

 ** _"Non, je recontré le branleur!"- No, I met the_** ** _wanker!_ (Still-probably-wrong-French. I am sorry, French-speakers. I am butchering the language.)**

 ** _"Oh, fabuleux!"- Oh, fabulous!_ (French)**

 **...So…maybekindapossibly longer chapter. Hopefully it's interesting for it's length.**

 _ **Hej-hej,**_

 **xx Sveg**


	6. Chapter 6

**To start:** I reference. I do not own: Frebreze, Poltergeist, Fullmetal Alchemist, or Hamilton.

 **I apologize for my excessive use of dashes. They come up a lot when talking in real life, so they come up a lot when I dialogue. Thank you for your cooperation, and Happy Canada Day/Friday. And start of Camp NaNo. If you don't know what Nanowrimo is, I highly suggest looking it up. Please do it with me!**

 **xx Sveg**

* * *

"Mattie's going to kill me."

"Oh, _non!_ I will stop him."

Alfred stopped before the door to the house and put his head in his hands. "You guys don't understand. We've never, _ever_ invited people inside our place."

Francis clucked. "Technically, you didn't invite us. Arthur invited himself- Arthur?"

The Englishman hadn't even gone up the steps to the front porch. He had his arms crossed and his eyes closed, walking on the sidewalk down the length of the small square yard. He was muttering something to himself, and Francis sighed.

"What?" Alfred asked, completely- what was the word?- _confuddled._

"He's studying whatever incantation is here. _Arthur Kirkland! Vas-Y, tu rosbif!"_

Arthur straightened with a sniff, shaking his head. "I just don't get it. I'm standing in the front lawn, and there's nothing. No protection spell, no traps, no concealments. It's a plain old house. It's making very little sense."

"To you. It makes perfect sense to _moi."_

"Pray tell."

Francis smiled. "It's the oldest trick in the book. Hiding in plain sight."

Arthur pinched his nose, joining them on the porch. "You wine-loving tool. That can't be it at all."

"Why not?" Alfred asked. "I've never noticed anything strange."

"Haven't you watched those Frebreze commercials? You've gone noseblind. I could smell your timey stench as soon as we turned onto the street. Francis has just smelled too many fancy cheeses for his nose to work right."

"Alright, seriously. Are you two, like, werewolves or something?"

"Werewolves- My God. Talk about old troubles."

Alfred's eyes widened. "So you _are?"_

 _"No,"_ Arthur growled, his eyes flashing. "Absolutely not."

"Then please, please _please_ tell me before I let you into the house?"

"If your Counter is inside, we'll tell him."

"Aw, not _Mattie._ Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely…No. Just wait; I don't feel like explaining our natures twice in the same day."

"But what if you're something bad, and I let you into my house, and, oh, I dunno, you're ghosts or something. Then you'll haunt my house and put blood on the mirror and we'll have to move before you make a portal in my room and hide a clown underneath my bed and I fall through the floor and you kill me."

"What fantasies have you been dallying in?"

"Oh, that sounds a bit like Poltergeist."

Alfred's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You know what it is?"

"We've lived for quite a couple decades. Arthur's never had the nerve to watch anything remotely entertaining."

"I wasn't scared, you twat! I couldn't bring myself to watch such a terrible representation of spirits. They have a lovely personality, every one I've ever met was courteous."

Alfred narrowed his eyes, studying the both of them. "Waaaaiiitt. You've lived for 'quite a couple decades'? How many?"

"Oh, what would you say, Arthur? Eighty-five? Around eight hundred and fifty years?"

"That's only the mid 1100's. I think it was a bit before that…"

It clicked. "You guys must be immortals!"

Arthur stiffened, and then let out a low grumble while Francis laughed.

"You guessed correct, _Amércain."_

Alfred ran his hands through his hair. "Wow. Seriously? I thought it was just a stupid guess!"

"A stupid guess? Why would immortals be a stupid guess?"

It was just too crazy. _I mean, time travelers exist, but immortals? Surely I'd have known that._ And anyway, too have been born in the 1100's? Even if they didn't grow old, he couldn't imagine some medieval guys to look and act so…up-to-date. "Who lives for eight hundred and fifty years?"

"I'm telling you, it's been _longer_ than that. Don't trust anything the frog says."

"Oh, and I suppose you haven't lived for over a century?" Francis asked Alfred with a smirk.

He couldn't answer that, so he unlocked the door and allowed them to step inside.

"Mattie!" he called, dread trickling through him. Maybe he wasn't home. He crossed his fingers. "Mattie, I'm back!"

He came to the kitchen, noting the pancakes from earlier that morning. They had long gone cold, and the butter had solidified in greasy streaks. If Matthew had been home, they would have been cleaned up. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to all the higher beings he knew.

"Has your Counter returned?" came the British voice in the hallway.

"No," he called back, sighing in relief. "I think it's safe. It doesn't look like he's been around."

Arthur came in with a sigh. "Well, then it looks like I have no choice but to explain the situation to _you."_

Alfred pretended not to be miffed at all by this comment.

Francis stuck up for him, however half-heartedly. "Mmm. Be nice, Arthur." He was looking all around, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "He's probably poor. Look at this monstrosity. What color is this?" He tapped a nail against the wall. "'Arthur's Porridge'?" He ducked his head to peer into the living room and gasped. " _Mon dieu._ Pinch me: I am having a nightmare. _Popcorn ceilings."_

"Hey," Alfred mumbled, sliding onto the barstool, crossing his arms and using his feet to spin around. "Stop talking bad about the house and start talking about…what did you want to talk about?"

"First of all, I believe it was _you_ who initiated the idea of this meeting, not us. And second, please tell me you _aren't_ eating those pancakes?"

Alfred had his fork halfway to his mouth when he answered. "Yeah, they're just from this morning. I haven't had breakfast yet."

"They're cold!"

Alfred put the fork in his mouth and waggled his eyebrows. Arthur looked disgusted.

"How are we to have this conversation if you are eating?"

"Jus' tawk."

"What terrible manners. You haven't invited us to take a seat, instead choosing to swallow down an old breakfast. Then you not only talk with your mouth full, but also forget to even keep your mouth closed at all while chewing. How are we to have a serious conversation with you, a child? Francis, don't you agree? Francis?"

The Frenchman had moved past them, standing facing the stairs. "Hmm? What?"

"We're going to wait until his Counter returns home to talk."

"What!" Alfred exclaimed, spittle flying from his mouth. Arthur backed away with a grimace. "You already said you'd talk to me!"

"You are not fit to have such a mature conversation. This is not some playful banter; this is a painful truth that both you and your Counter will have to come to terms with. So Francis and I will wait for your Counter, and before you say one more word- no buts. Got that Francis?"

But Francis had disappeared, and instead of a reply they got the sound of a pair of boots treading up the steps.

"Oh, you-" his insult faded into an unintelligible grumble as he began to storm up the stairs.

Alfred quickly followed after him, letting his fork clatter on the plate and swallowing before letting out another, "Hey!" Who was the Frenchman to just start wandering about his house?

"Francis! What the bollocks are you doing?" Arthur snapped, coming up the last stair and stepping into the narrow upstairs hallway. Alfred noticed with a small spike of irritation (complete horror) that the door to Mattie's room had been pushed open. He scrambled past the English immortal, dashing inside.

Sure enough, the Frenchie was in there. He stood facing the single window, completely still.

"Psst! I don't know how long you've been here in America, but going into somebody's room without permission isn't real polite!"

Francis didn't acknowledge him. At least, nothing beyond giving him a shooing wave. At that moment, Arthur came stomping through, not minding Alfred at all and immediately going for Francis's wrist.

"You git! You can't go and make yourself at home in someone else's room!"

"Oh, _pour l'amour de Dieu-_ Arthur, I am trying to work here."

"Yes, yes. That shade of red is absolutely hideous. We get it, America is not France. Now get _out."_

"No, no. I am _working."_

It took a second for Arthur to understand, and when he did, he let Francis arm drop and took a step away. "Oh. Apologies."

Alfred, however, still understood nothing. "What's going on here? In case you've forgotten, this is my Counter's room! We can't be in here. He hardly ever let's me in here. Gosh, he's going to kill me. That's it. He's going to kill me. How much time do I have left? A few hours? Minutes? Seconds?"

"Hush!"

"Hush!" Alfred exclaimed. His fists clenched. "And it's also rude to hush a hero-"

Arthur dragged him out in the hall. "Francis is trying _clairvoyance."_

"Clare voyance?"

"Close enough. But be quiet now, agreed?"

"Why?"

Arthur turned his head to mutter something Alfred couldn't hear.

"Why?" he asked again, in case he hadn't heard him the first time.

"Because as ridiculous as that frilled frog is, clairvoyance is actually something he can do that I can't."

"No, I mean, what is clairvoyance?"

"It's a supernatural power. Surely you've experienced it as a child? No, most people don't realize it, so never mind. It's the supernatural power of seeing into the future or past the normal frame of senses."

Alfred's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow, really? That's so cool!"

"Yes, and please keep your voice low. We shan't distract him."

"Sorry. But superpowers?! You guys are great!"

Was that just him, or did Arthur seem to redden a little? "Not superpowers, super _natural_ powers."

"Just as awesome! Is it an immortal thing? What other supernatural stuff can you do?" Oh, yeah. He was blushing all right. Aww, the cold Englishman had a weakness: flattery. How cute!

"Well, it's not a supernatural power, but both Francis and I are exceedingly good at swordplay."

"Do people even fight with swords anymore?"

Arthur sniffed. "We fought against each other during the Hundred Years War, and there were plenty of swords there to last me the rest of my immortality. Though, we have a rather strong grip on guns and hand-to-hand combat, too. Does that satisfy you?"

"Anything else?"

"I occasionally dabble in what you may call the magical arts. I'm particularly good at alchemy and transmutations. You know what that is?"

"Like in Fullmetal Alchemist. 'To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.'"

Arthur gave him a withering look, but went on. "It's another branch of science. Over the years, Francis has developed his clairvoyance the same way I've developed magic."

"Are there other things I don't know about?"

Something flashed in the immortals eyes. "Yes. Thousands."

"Do they include me?"

"A good percentage of them."

"Oh."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Really, it's rather puzzling. Even being a timey, you should know better than you do."

He grit his teeth. "Matthew doesn't even tell me why I'm working most of the time. How am I supposed to know about supernatural crap when I don't even know why I'm here?"

"Your Counter didn't inform you of the workings of this dimension?"

"' _He looked at me like I was stupid. I'm not stupid,'"_ he recited in reply. "At least, not by choice."

Arthur's face softened. "Look, Alfred. I think we really should wait for Matthew to come back, then. It would be best-"

There was a sudden clatter coming from Matthew's room, and after a moment's stillness both American and Englishman dove for the door.

"Franny?" Alfred heard Arthur ask gently. Their footsteps creaked on the carpetless hardwood floor. Sunlight filtered onto the spot where the Frenchman had been standing.

"Frenchie, where'd you go? Come on, Matthew could be home any minute now."

" _Non,"_ came a mew.

"What?" Arthur leaned over the bed, finding that his longtime enemy (companion (friend) (best mate)) had forced himself in between the mattress and wall. He had his knees drawn up to his chest with his hands draped over them. "What are you doing back there, enjoying sitting on the floor?"

Francis blinked up at him with violet streaked eyes. _"Non."_

Now Alfred was getting jittery. "Come on, come on!" He could practically hear his Counter's footsteps, the squeak of the door as he came inside. "What's wrong? Let's not be in here when Mattie comes home. He's already pissed at me, and I need to finish my-"

" _Quelqu'un va mourir."_

Arthur's eyes widened. "Franny?"

"What? What'd he say? Get him out!"

" _Le Compteur ne vient pas à la maison."_

"Francis, snap out of it."

"What's he doing?"

" _Elle a commencé."_

" _Francis Bonnefoy."_

"I don't speak French!"

" _Ils viennent pour lui."_

" _Francis!"_

"Will someone tell me what's going on here?"

" _Le compteur est tombé."_

Arthur let out a growl and yanked on the Frenchman's hair. "You've got yourself stuck again." He got down on the floor beside him and began shaking him. "God damn it, Francis. It's been close millennia and you still get stuck?" He pinched Francis's nose closed.

" _Bien, bien!_ I'm out, I'm out." He took a deep breath and Arthur sat back. The French immortal shook his head. "Where have I gotten myself now?"

"In between the bed and the wall, you idiot. How on earth did you manage to get stuck seeing?"

"I couldn't look into the future, there was something going on that wouldn't let me see. So I had to go further outside myself, which was fine, but then I was under the Circle and got trapped."

"Hold up, the Circle? How do you guys know about the Circle? What were you looking at, anyways? Somebody it give it to me straight!"

Francis bit the inside of his lip, not looking at the time traveler. "I've no choice, Arthur."

"No, don't tell him yet!"

"I'd be a disgrace if I didn't. It's not fair."

"I don't care if it's not fair. You will not tell him anything."

Francis stood up. "Alfred."

Arthur turned towards the window with a sigh.

Alfred crossed his arms. "Wow, thanks for finally acknowledging my existence. Seriously, what's-"

"Your Counter is gone."

* * *

 **Before anything: Happy birthday, Canada/Hong Kong! :D**

 ** _"Arthur Kirkland! Vas-Y, tu rosbif!" -_ "Arthur Kirkland! Come on, you roast beef!" (French). Apparently calling someone British a 'rosbif' is similar to calling someone French a 'frog'.Didn't know that- learn something new everyday, yeah?**

 _ **"Mon dieu!"**_ **\- "My God!"**

 ** _"pour l'amour de Dieu"-_ For the love of God (French).**

 **" _Quelqu'un va mourir." -_ "Someone is going to die." (French).**

 **" _Le Compteur ne vient pas à la maison."_ \- "The Counter is not coming home." (French).**

 **" _Elle a commencé."-_ "It's started." (French).**

 **" _Ils viennent pour lui."-_ "They're coming for him." (French).**

 **" _Le compteur est tombé."_ \- "The Counter fell." (French).**

 **So I was late again, but it's also longer, so...you know. I'm writing Arthur a little bit fonder towards Francis than most would probably write, but hopefully that's okay. Also I think I use insults too much, so sorry. I'm not trying too, cross my heart stick a cupcake in my eye** (do not own MLPFIM). **Also I use a bunch of names and other proper nouns to identify people because I don't like saying "Francis francis francis" ad "Arthur arthur arthur" all the time. It's hard to write when all your characters are guys.**

 **Would it be bad for storytime oh well idc gonna tell it anyway for CANADA. So once upon a time my sister went to camp and on the last full day there was a talent show and she video called us and projected us onto a big screen and we sang the Canadian anthem and that is how we got second place in a talent show okay bye**

 **xx Sveg**


	7. Chapter 7

**Since I was late the past couple of times, I'm uploading early! Also, please see my note at the bottom; it contains some updated information on this fanfic that some of you might want to see. - Sveg**

* * *

He blinked at him, not understanding. "What?"

"Your Counter. Mathieu. He's gone."

"What'd'ya mean, 'gone'? Just give me a full answer already!"

"He's fallen off the Circle."

What? Matthew fell off the Circle? He was still in the dark. Not even these strangers would give him a good answer to any of his questions. Sure, he'd always harbored a small fear of slipping and tumbling down into the grayness, but Matthew had only teased him for it.

"You can't fall off the circle, dumbass," he'd snorted. "You're a time traveler. All you have to do is go back in time."

The immortals weren't so fun anymore. Now Alfred kind of wanted them out of his house. But he had to know how they knew of the Circle. He'd thought only he and Mattie knew its existence, and maybe whoever Matthew must work for. Why did these immortals know of it? Did another time traveler tell them? He didn't understand. He never understood.

"Alfred." He felt a cool hand on his arm. "I know this must be shocking for you. Why don't you sit down so we can talk?"

Alfred took a step back, leaving Arthur's touch. "I can't. Matthew's looking for me."

"Matthew fell off the Circle."

"But he can't fall off the Circle. He's a time traveler."

"He's a Counter. You're the traveler."

"He can jump, too."

"Not without his watch," Francis mumbled into his hands.

"Matthew's got his watch. He never takes it off. I don't think he can."

"Matthew isn't coming home, timey."

 _Matthew isn't coming home._ It was a surreal thought. It didn't belong in his brain. It didn't belong in the immortal's mouth. It didn't belong anywhere.

"Get out."

Both men blinked at him. "Pardon?"

Alfred's fingers curled into fists and he clenched his teeth. "Get out. I don't know who you two really are, but you aren't going to mess with me."

" _Monsieur_ Alfred, I assure you this is not a trick."

"It sure as hell is," he snarled, slipping the silver chain out from under his t-shirt and holding the timepiece between his middle and index finger. "And for future reference, don't mess with someone who can go back in time."

"No, don't-"

He twisted the knob and waited for the flash of white to take him.

And waited. Nothing came.

Arthur had grabbed his arm, his eyes a burning green. "You will _not_ use that, especially unchecked."

He didn't look at him, instead staring at the timepiece in his hand. It _tick-tick-_ ticked like it always did, and when he flipped the cover open to see its face, he found that the hands were still clocked at the Present Line. He'd winded it. He knew that he had winded it and slid it up the chain. He'd thought about midmorning, right after he had jumped from the Circle. Matthew would know if he jumped; he followed him everywhere. He didn't know how he did it, but even if it took longer to find him, Matthew always knew what Line he was in.

"It didn't work." He stared dully at the silver cover, running a thumb over the black lines across it.

"No. Along with my skills of being the perfect gentleman and intuitive scientist, I have also developed the skill of…how do I put it…stopping time travelers like you from destroying this dimension by ripping holes in the folds of time?"

He tried to tear his arm away again. Arthur held firm.

"Well then, I believe this room has gotten a little stuffy. Why don't we move this conversation downstairs?" Francis stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on his pants. "Arthur, it's a little hard to look threatening when you're wearing an apron."

Arthur growled and grabbed Alfred's other wrist in response. The American wriggled and pulled and twisted, and his immortal captor scowled. "Francis, be a dear and get his 'piece, will you?"

The Frenchman huffed. "Who would ever want the agony of being called your 'dear'?" But to Alfred's horror, he stepped forwards, reaching for his chain.

"No!"

" _Je suis désolé, petit."_

He struggled harder, jerking his chin away and making the locket dangle away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We can't have you jumping. Arthur can't hold on to you forever."

So it was his touch that made the jump not work. If he managed to kick and escape, he'd flee to the Circle…

He stomped on Arthur's foot, to which the Briton yelled, _"Francis!"_ He whacked his shins with a well-aimed kick. He pulled as far back as he could go, watching Francis' hand reach for his neck-

His eyes darted down to the small watch. It was suspended over the floor, glinting in the sun. He tilted his head, grabbed hold of the chain between his teeth, and, using his tongue, brought the timepiece itself behind his teeth..

Francis paused. "Arthur, he has it in his mouth."

"So? I don't care if he loses a few teeth. Yank on the rest of the chain."

They were here for his timepiece. This is why Matthew always told him interact with others as little as possible. He'd given not only his name but also Mattie's and their address, their occupations…What had he done? Oh, he'd gotten himself in a real mess now. He'd dug himself a fine hole. He could only pray that Matthew would come home soon.

"I don't want to yank his teeth out. He has beautiful American teeth."

"His teeth or our lives, your choice."

Francis sighed and wrapped his fingers on the chain. Alfred kept the timepiece firmly on his tongue. No way was he going to just give it to them, not without a fight. He'd swallow it if he had to.

"Alfred, please."

"Just give it up already. You aren't leaving this room with the watch."

"You ain't leavin' wi' it," he mumbled back.

Francis tugged the chain lightly. "Maybe we can tell you more about the outside world."

"I know enuf."

"Don't you want to know how that thing works? We can give you answers that your Counter never gave you. Tell you more about us, if you so want. You can't have that, timey. You don't know what you're doing."

"I'm ol'er than I look."

"But you don't know what you're doing," Francis recited gently. "We can tell you, as soon as you give your timepiece to us."

Alfred shook his head violently.

"Your best chance of finding Matthew is with us."

"Matt's fine."

"A time traveler is never alone, but you are."

It was like a spark of pain. _Mattie's not coming home._

"Matt's no' dead."

"He could be."

" _Arthur!"_

"We can not rule out possibilities. You said someone would die when you were stuck seeing. You most likely meant him."

Alfred jerked. He had to get out of here. He had to go get Mattie.

Francis sighed, letting go of the chain and rubbing the side of his face. "I said someone. I don't know whom. Things get blurry when I get stuck."

"The thing is, timey, Francis saw your Counter falling. And he saw someone dying. Give up your timepiece already."

"Lyin'."

"What reason do we have to lie?"

Alfred moved the watch to the side of his cheek. "You can't be in the future, not if you're at the Circle. It's just the Present."

"I saw the future, I wasn't in it. I wasn't at the Circle, either. I was under it."

"Matthew can jump. You'll see. He'll be here soon."

"We're telling you," Arthur forced through his teeth, "your Counter fell of the Circle and he is without his watch."

"Someone would be after him, then."

"According to Francis, yes. Someone must have assaulted him."

"Impossible. The only people who can go to the Circle are other time travelers, and it's only always been me and Matt."

"But I've already told you that I've met other timeys."

"Name five."

"Berwald, Mathias, Elizabeta, Elise, Heracules."

"Counters?"

"Tino, Lukas, Roderich, Vash, Sadiq."

Anyone could make up ten names on the spot!

"Are they the only others?"

"I'm sure there are more. I know only six: the five I've listed and a Michelle and Xiao Mei."

"How come I've never seen them?"

"Believe it or not, there are other Circles."

"Do these guys know about each other?"

Arthur didn't answer.

"Do they know about me?"

He kept his lips tightly pursed.

"Did you try to take their timepieces, too?"

"I should correct myself. I know _of_ other timeys. I am not familiar with them, and have not come in contact with them for more than a few times."

"You don't know me, either."

"We've been following you," Francis responded.

"What?"

"You saw us back in the nineteenth century. At the bakery. in Illinois. I've sensed your presence long before that, though. Revolutionary War, I'd say."

Francis nodded. "I remember that. We were having another one of our fallouts- you were a solider and I was with Lafayette. I was walking around the battlefield while you had gotten yourself shot. Touched my leg and kept rambling about Quebec."

Arthur rubbed his side. "Yes. Revolutionary War."

Alfred didn't believe it one bit. "So you've been tailing me. Haven't been doing a very good job, if it's been 300 years."

"You jumped a lot- we all know it's been more than just three hundred. Your Counter would never let us near you."

"So Matthew knew about you guys?"

They ignored him. "I knew you'd come to us sooner or later," Arthur continued. "We thought your Counter would be right behind you."

"Why do you want my timepiece?"

"I couldn't care less about that dirty little thing. What I care about is what you're doing with it. It's too dangerous for it to be in your hands."

"Fine."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"You're right. It's too dangerous for it to be in my hands; you guys could take it. So it's in my mouth. And now…" He grinned and swallowed.

* * *

And immediately felt odd. It took him a painful second to realize that it was lodged in his throat, and the back of the chain was still against his neck. _Shit, shit, shit._ Fear flared hotly down his back, and he tried swallowing again, only to find he couldn't. Arthur still had a firm hold on him, but he managed to flop one of his arms away and grab his throat, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"Arthur, let go! He's choking!"

"He could be faking!"

He gagged.

"No, no. Cough forcefully, _petit!_ Cough forcefully!"

 _Oh, God. Not like this, not like this._ He needed to calm down, he knew he needed to calm down, but he was scared and confused and shocked. He bucked against Arthur's grip.

"Stop that, you git! Keep still- Francis!"

"Cough forcefully, _Amércain!"_

 _"_ He can't cough if he can't breathe, you imbecile!"

Were those black spots edging his vision? _Oh, God, no. This is actually happening._

"You idiot, you tried to swallow it while it's still around your neck. What's that thing, that thing with the chair-"

"Hei- hei- Heinz Maneuver!"

"Yeah, yeah, the Heinz...no, that's not it, but it does start with an H…I think you put your arms somewhere…Hey! Don't pass out on us! Good Lord, he going to kill himself."

"I've got it! The Heimlich!"

"The Heimlich! Yes, yes-"

" _Merde!_ You can't do it now! He's fainted! _RCP! RCP!"_

"RCP! What's RCP?"

"Right, right, English-"

"CPR! You mean CPR!"

"That!"

* * *

"Should we move him?"

"No, no. I don't think you're supposed to. I'm CPR certified, and it says not to touch a victim of cardiac arrest."

"But it wasn't cardiac arrest; he was choking!"

"Either way, he wasn't breathing. I put him in the recovery position. We don't move him. He'll probably vomit."

Francis ran his knuckles over the stubble on his jaw. "What are we going to do with him?"

Arthur got up from the floor with a sigh. "I don't know. We don't exactly need him, not if his Counter is gone. I don't know what he thought he was doing when he tried to swallow this, but it turned out horribly wrong." He had the chain of Alfred's timepiece looped around a single finger, having rubbed God knew what from it onto his apron, which now lay abandoned at his feet.

"We can't just leave him."

"We're not. We should tell him why we're taking this first."

"Here, give it to me. I'll hide it."

"Wow, the frog has a good idea for once. You must finally be sober from your lunch break."

"I was never drunk!"

Arthur tossed him the watch, and Francis tucked it into his pocket. The two immortals both stared down at Alfred lying prostrate on the ground.

"Do you think they made a mistake?"

"The Axis?"

"They take the time travelers, not the Counters."

"Hmm. I don't see how they could make such an error. A Counter has a wristwatch, and time traveler has a locket. What would they want a Counter for?"

"Maybe I should call Antonio."

"What would Antonio know?"

The French immortal shrugged. "He and Lovino have been together for a while. Maybe they've figured out something."

"Lovino! Don't tell me that's why you want to call the Spaniard."

"He was a Counter before his traveler disappeared. We should bring him here, and Gilbert, too."

"Oh, heavens above, no. Not Gilbert. Anybody but that demon."

"He's _mon ami._ He lost Ludwig around two centuries ago."

"I'd rather take Antonio and Lovino than Gilbert."

"I'm going to call them both."

"But Alfred's Counter is the one that has disappeared. This time it's the timey left behind. What help would those three be to us?"

"You never know, _mon Anglais._ You never know."

* * *

 **" _Je suis désolé, petit."-_ "I'm sorry, little one." (French).**

 _ **petit-**_ **little/small one. (French).**

 _ **Merde!-**_ **Shit! (French).**

 _ **RCP-**_ **CPR spelled in French? (French?)**

 _ **mon ami-**_ **my friend (still possibly French?)**

 _ **mon Anglais-**_ **My Englishman (Google Translate French).**

 **Yeah, so…I have no zero regrets.**

 **Also, ATTENZIONE:** I am unsure of whether or not this fan fiction with remain USUK. I love the ship, (I really, really do), but I am getting a growing FrUk/FACE family vibe in this. PruCan/Hun will definitely not occur. I didn't want to not warn anybody, in case the ship is the only reason you're still reading.

Sorry if this is not to your liking. But I can't tell Arthur what to do, and Francis seems pretty attached to Alfred.

Thanks!

 **xx Sveg**


	8. Chapter 8

_"Alfred."_

"Mattie?" he mumbled.

 _"Wake up or I'm calling an ambulance."_

"Five mo' minuuuhhs."

 _"Alfred, we need to talk."_

"Took ya long enuff."

 _"Alfred. I'm giving you to the end of nine-one-one. Nine."_

"Matthew, I'm scared of geese."

 _"Isn't healthcare really expensive here? One."_

 _"Come on, mon cher."_

 _"One. Nine-one-one. Okay, Francis. Press the button."_

Alfred blinked and groaned, rolling over. "Wha?"

A green and beige blur hovered over him. "Are you alright?"

Was he alright…why wouldn't he be alright? What had happened? He felt light-headed, and wondered slightly if the floor was spinning like a giant record player. Bile rose in his throat and he coughed it up weakly.

"You see, Francis? They always tell you about the gasping, but never about the vomit. I thought he was going to do it while I was doing the mouth-to-mouth. Then I probably would have returned the favor."

A cool hand brushed his hair away from his face. _"Voyageur?"_

"Matt?"

"No, No. Mathieu was taken away."

He sifted through his brain for the meaning of these words, since they did not make any sense. _Matthew was taken away…_ He couldn't remember Matthew being taken away. Who would want to take Matthew? He hadn't done anything wrong.

"You choked on your own timepiece. Foolish boy. Don't you know you're not supposed to swallow anything but food and drink?"

Choking would explain the sluggish whisper of adrenaline in his blood. He vaguely remembered a raw fear crawling up and getting stuck in his throat. Yes, he must have choked, choked on his timepiece.

 _My timepiece!_

It came flying back to him: the immortals had tried to take his watch. They'd told him Mattie was gone in order to distract him so the Briton could grab and detain him. He had to get to Matthew. He had to escape and get to Matthew.

He shot up, Arthur snapping, "Oi! Slowly now, you'll…"

His voice faded away as the spinning sensation returned as his vision clouded with black fuzz.

"Arthur, you didn't even move to catch him!"

"He deserves a good bump on the head. I would have given him one myself if the floor didn't. The idiot. After asphyxiation, he needs to catch his breath and take it slowly."

"Not everybody has a medical degree. He's scared." Francis got down besides his old enemy (friend) and patted the top of the traveler's head. "You're very fond of him, aren't you?"

"Me?" Arthur spluttered. "I hardly know him!"

"I'm fond of him. He reminds me of _un_ _chiot,_ a puppy."

"I find it strange that you've already given him pet names."

"They fit for the puppy."

Arthur turned back to Alfred. "He's a timey, Francis. We've just met him today."

"No, we met him about two hundred years ago. It just happens that we have crossed paths for a second time."

"For him, it's probably the second time today. We were present during an assignment. Look, I think he's wearing the same clothes."

Francis laughed merrily. "Ah, so it is, and I still don't think them fashionable. But still, time works in mysterious ways, no?"

"Don't get philosophical on me, you frog."

 _"Bien, mon Anglais._ Whatever you say."

* * *

Alfred blinked against the orange evening light. Immediately he felt a hand on his arm.

"Let's do it right this time, yes? _Slowly."_

Shit, he'd fainted again.

He growled, his cheek still pressed to the floor. "What did you do to me?"

Arthur laughed. "We saved your life, you ungrateful git. You tried to swallow your timepiece while it was still around your neck. You would have suffocated had I not been here."

Alfred propped himself up on his hands, ignoring the bout of dizziness and staring at him defiantly. "I can take care of myself, thanks."

The Englishman rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course. How could have I forgotten that one can perform CPR on his own self?"

Alfred reached his hand up to his neck, feeling for a chain that wasn't there. A smirk formed on his lips. "But I did it, didn't I? You're gonna have some trouble getting it now."

Arthur sighed. "We could just make you vomit until it comes up, or cut you open, but both options would be neither sanitary nor efficient."

Alfred wouldn't show any sign of fear. Nope. Heroes weren't afraid of anything. They took down villains; they didn't let the villains take them.

"Which is why we took it."

"What?"

Now it was Arthur's turn to have a sly smile on his face. "I suppose you thought you swallowed it while you were unconscious? I'm CPR certified. I saved your life, so the timepiece was the payment."

Alfred's hand tightened around his own neck. He hadn't noticed. He'd though there'd be some flash or spark or _something_ when the chain left the warmth of his skin. "You…you took it?"

"We had to," Francis explained gently.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"You want to find your Counter, don't you? We aren't cold blooded murderers."

"Why haven't you left already?" If they had what they wanted, why were they still here, in his house? Why had they saved him?

"You can't do anything without knowing what you're truly doing, first."

"I've done it before and I'll do it again."

Arthur put his face in his hands and groaned, while Francis straightened with a long sigh. "Ahhh. Let's talk downstairs. I've had enough of this room."

* * *

 ** _"Voyageur?"-_ "Traveler?" (French).**

 ** _"Bien, mon Anglais…"-_ "Fine, my Englishman." (More butchered French.)**

 **Un chiot- a puppy. (I-seriously-hope-I'm-not-making-a-fool-of-myself French).**

 **So this is pretty short, and I probably could have added it to the previous or next chapter. But it would have made both reasonably long without much reason, so I went for a little shortie.**

 **Also, I'm feeling double weekly updates. Come and get 'em: they're only here for a limited time (until I run out of chapters). Maybe Mondays and Thursdays? Maybe random? Maybe when I feel like it? I'll be in Atlanta for a few days next week, and I don't know when I'll be able to write/upload.**

 **Shout out to anybody who lives in Alberta, Canada and an even louder one if you live in Calgary. Just 'cause.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry I didn't upload, I was in Atlanta, Georgia, for the past few days (and got to spend the seven hour ride there and the eight hour ride back with a PUPPY :D) I'm a little behind on the whole Camp NaNoWriMo thing, and next week I'll be away again…but I'll do my best to write/upload when I can!**

 **P.S. I apologize in advance for being so terrible to Alfred. IT WILL GET BETTER. HE WILL GET CHILI.**

 **xx Sveg**

* * *

Alfred drew his knees up to his chest, his face pressed into his thighs. They'd taken his timepiece…He'd never, _ever_ been without his timepiece, at least of what he could remember. It connected him to Mattie. It made him a time traveler. Without it, he had- he _was_ \- nothing. Just another drop of the ocean. And the longer it took for Matthew to come home, the more he believed that something bad had happened to him. It was all his fault. He'd made a mess of his assignment, he'd gotten angry at Mattie and ran, he'd spoken of time traveling to complete strangers, he'd let the strangers into his house and into Matthew's room, he'd let them deceive him, and now he was without his Counter and his watch.

It hurt. His gut twisted and his chest felt odd. He drew his hand to his neck, feeling bare skin instead of silver chain.

"Alfred, we're still in what you call the Future Line, right? You haven't jumped since we met outside the cafè?"

"No," he mumbled into his feet. That was right, he hadn't jumped back. If he could just get his timepiece, he could return to the Present and have this never happen.

"It's impossible to jump without skipping something then, right?"

He didn't answer. Arthur sighed.

"It was ten when you came into the cafè and two when we met. Four hours passed for me. No doubt it was only a few minutes for you. Truth?"

"Sure."

"Therefore I am still in the "Present", correct?"

He'd already lost him with 'it's impossible to jump without skipping something'. "I guess so."

"So how do you know if you are in the Future at all?"

Because he used his fricking timepiece, that was why.

"You're doing a horrible job of explaining. Here." Francis held up three fingers before Arthur could stop him. "There are three lines: the Past, Present, and Future, the Present being the main line that the Past and Future intersect." He demonstrated using his pointer fingers, making a cross. "But even if you jump into the Future, time still passes. You are still, even though you are on another Line, in the Present."

"I'm just as confused as he is, now. Remember, _'keep it simple, stupid'_. Alfred, are you still listening?"

He nodded into his knees.

"Good. I'll flat-out say it: Every time you jump outside the Present Line, you create a Hole."

He lifted his head. "A hole?"

"Yes. You see, living Present beings are not meant to be anywhere but the Present Line. Your assignment sent you somewhere in the 1800's this morning. You went into the Past and jumped back. It doesn't matter that you're of the Present, what matters is that you brought the Present with you. For those minutes you spent in the 1830's, you had made the Past the Present. The same goes for the Future. I don't know why you'd have much use of that, but every time you jump forwards, you skip time and bring the Present here. So now this is the Present, the Present is now the Past, and so on. Do you get that? I'm afraid I can't explain it any simpler."

"I got…I got most of it."

"That's satisfactory enough."

"But I don't get what this has to do with me and Mattie."

Arthur sighed. "In what way does this not involve you? You're the one skipping time."

"It's our job. Well, my job. Mattie does 'surveys' on me, but I don't know who he does them for."

Francis spoke. "Do you remember anytime when you weren't a time traveler?"

He didn't even have to think. "No."

The Frenchman tapped his chin. "What about a time without your timepiece?"

"That timepiece is what makes me a time traveler."

"Ah. I see. Then let's talk about Matthew for a moment. What role does your Counter have? What about him makes you need him?"

"He watches me."

"Like a babysitter?" Arthur snorted. Francis elbowed him.

Alfred scowled. "No. I mean, he gives me my assignment and judges how well I did on it. He's like a…a police officer, yeah. A _time_ officer."

"Mmm," Francis mused. "You can travel without him?"

"Obviously."

"But he can't travel without you."

"Of course he can."

One of Arthur's eyebrows rose. "That so?"

Alfred shifted. "Yeah."

Francis leaned forward, staring at him intently. Neither immortal said anything and let the silence sweep into the room.

The American frowned. "What?"

"Counters can't jump whenever they please, not like their travelers."

"Matthew can. He never lets me alone."

"Counters can jump to their traveler's Timeline, but not independently. The only time a Counter can jump without his traveler is when he's looking for his ward, and even so, that's only once a year."

"You didn't know this?"

So that's how Matthew always knew what Timeline he was in…he followed him. He had no choice but to follow him. Like a shadow and a body. "Like I said, Matthew never tells me anything. Just how to use my- my timepiece. He occasionally explains my assignment, but nothing about who gives them to him or why they even occur. I mean, why am I going into the Past, if it already happened? Why did something need to be fixed?" He shook his head with a rueful laugh. "I don't get it."

"We can tell you that."

His head shot back up. "What? Really?"

Arthur gave him a queer look. "I didn't realize you were this unaware…but yes, we can. It's the Holes. They're messing up the Lines."

He tried to wrap his head around this. Luckily, Francis stepped in.

"Someone opens up a Hole, you time travelers come in and try to patch it. But it doesn't work- it never has. More holes keep opening up, and jumping only speeds up the process- especially when it's unchecked."

"Then who opens up one of these Holes in the first place?"

"That we do not know. It's been going longer than we've been alive. Some type of infinite chain reaction."

Alright, he had the basics of what they were telling him. "And…what does this have to do with you guys?"

"Time affects everything, _mon cher."_

"But you're immortals."

"Time might not age us, but that does not mean we are not caught in its flow."

"Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"You didn't know about immortals until this afternoon; it's no wonder you are oblivious to the detriments of your work."

"What happens when there's too many Holes?"

"How should we know? It hasn't happened yet, idiot. I suspect we'll go to ruin."

It hurt to ask, but: "Do you think Mattie knows about this?"

They thought for a moment, and the breath whooshed out of Alfred's lungs when Arthur finally said, "No, I would think not. But I'm sure his superiors do."

"Do other time travelers know this?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. You're the first we've tracked down and gotten to. A little late, though."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, _mon chiot._ Arthur is only referring to your Counter."

"Oh." He let his head fall back between his knees.

Francis glanced at Arthur. The other immortal didn't return the look, but the Frenchman caught the minuscule nod of his head.

"Alfred, I'm sure it's been a long day. I, for one, need at least eight hours of beauty sleep to keep this good face without wrinkles. Why don't we call it a night?"

"Okay," he replied, even though it wasn't very late and he wasn't very tired. The time traveler slid off the couch and made for the stairs.

"And don't think of trying anything funny in the middle of the night!" Arthur called after him. "Don't think we're not going to be watching you!"

"You mean guard him."

Arthur sniffed. "He might make a run for it."

"You're afraid the Axis will come for him, too."

"I am not."

Francis let out a low chuckle. _"Bien, bien._ You can sleep with your back to his door; I shouldn't care. Does that leave me the Counter's bed?"

* * *

 _I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry._

Alfred bit his lip, clutching his pillow and shuffling further under the covers. Heroes didn't cry. Heroes saved the day. He was fine, everything was fine, it was all okay.

 _But Mattie didn't come home,_ said the same annoying voice that urged him to let the egg in his throat loose. _Mattie's in trouble. And you're without you're timepiece; you let the immortals take it._

"Stop," he mumbled tightly into the pillow.

 _Don't forget that all this work you've done was a waste. You've just been making everything worse. You're creating Holes. You're going to ruin the world._

"I don't really know that."

 _But deep down, you do. Don't deny it. You've done this to yourself._

He swallowed. _It's just a bad dream._

He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a sob before it could get past his lips. Boys didn't cry. Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd cried. Sure, he'd felt tears burn in the back of his eyes, but that was only when he was really, really angry with Matthew and he had never, ever ever ever let them out. So why couldn't he hold them back now?

Too much had happened, and it didn't matter anymore, that was why. Here, now, there was no one to see.

 _That's right. There's nothing else to do, now. I guess tears are the only things left, yeah? What's going to happen afterwards?_

He wanted to stay under the covers. He wanted to keep pretending.

 _Crying won't bring Mattie back._

It was stupid.

 _What are you going to do?_

"Stop," he repeated, clutching his hair. _"Stop, stop, stop."_

 _You've got to do something._

He didn't want to. That would mean this was all real, and it couldn't be. He wouldn't allow it.

 _That's not how it works._

He wiped his nose with his hand and turned his pillow over to its dry side, curling up into a fetal position with the covers over his head.

* * *

Francis closed the door gently.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asked, his back to the wall.

"Ah, nothing. I just supposed it would be rather rude to sleep in the Counter's room."

"When did you ever care about courtesy? Besides when it has to do with girls, of course."

Francis arched his back and stretched. "Oh, when it pleases me." He turned towards the steps.

"Hey, do you think he'll try to escape through his window?"

Francis shook his head so Arthur wouldn't catch his sad smile. "I doubt it. _Bonne nuit, rosbif."_

"Good night, frog."

* * *

Matthew didn't even black out. He kept seeing gray, endless gray, and could only scream after the shrinking Circle. He threw out his hands, but there was nothing to grab on to.

This couldn't be happening. He had to get to him. He had to get to him. He had to get to him. He was supposed to protect him, and he couldn't fail now. He had promised to never leave him alone again.

He'd messed up the first time, and he wasn't going to mess up again. They'd get him. They'd get him again.

He should have immediately come after him. But he'd made the same mistake as when they'd first met: he'd waited for his traveler to come to _him_. He'd sat there on the bench and wasted precious time. He thought his traveler would go and find him. _But that's not how it works._ And now he was paying the price. Only, he couldn't fix his error this time. His watch was gone, so he didn't even know where his traveler was.

He hoped he was safe. But he knew he wasn't.

 _Immortals._

How had they managed to get to _their_ Circle? It was impossible. That Circle was just for him and his traveler. It was unreachable without a timepiece, wristwatch or locket. And yet, he had seen no one with either item. But those Axis Powers had to have gotten there somehow.

 _Immortals._ It was like a hiss of pain. How could he have been so foolish to think that he would never eventually come into contact with them? He was involved in time traveling, of course there would be immortals. Even worse, he'd been _warned._

 _ **Tread carefully; future upsets have been seen. Be as inconspicuous as possible. Complete objectives as fast as possible. Jump as little as possible. Watch your traveler closely.**_

 _ **Wish luck,**_

 _ **General Winter**_

He closed his eyes. _Sorry, sorry. So sorry._

He hit the ground calling his traveler's name.

 _"Al-!"_

* * *

 **Hehehe, sorry not sorry.**

 _ **Mon cher-**_ **my dear (French).**

 _ **mon chiot-**_ **my puppy (Don't-worry-Google-is-always-right-French)**

 _ **bien-**_ **fine (French)**

 _ **Bonne nuit-**_ **Good night (I hope is correct French)**

 _ **rosbif-**_ **roastbeef (Seriously-am-I-doing-this-right-French).**

 **So I play this game with my sister. I don't really have a name for it, but I basically list all the horrible things done to characters in** **fan fictions, like major character deaths and torture (not giving away anything- she's read the same fan fictions as I). I also list a bunch of rare pairs/her NO pairs ex. chant "ROMERICA ROMERICA ROMERICA" and "You know, I kinda like AmeBel" (she is a firm USxUk) into her ears. Thirdly I read aloud unedited fan fictions. It's very fun, I highly suggest trying it with a friend. We both end up in tears, though for different reasons.**

 **Oh and General Winter- Not the actual General Winter character in Hetalia. It's a codename for a Hetalian nation, and I'm sure 97% of you will guess who he is...**

 **Reviews always welcome! _-_ _Sveg_**


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur slid onto a stool, giving Francis a pointed look, which the Frenchman ignored.

"Ah, _bonjour, mon chiot,"_ he greeted Alfred instead.

The time traveler shrugged in acknowledgement, slumped on his own stool and staring at his hands, spinning slowly side to side.

"I've made _crêpes."_

"He can see that, you git." Arthur reached over and grabbed his arm, dragging him over to the side. "Why didn't you tell me he was sleeping in the Counter's room?"

"I didn't think it would be that important. You're the one who calls himself a gentleman, so act like one. Can't you see the boy's devastated?"

"I wouldn't say _'devastated'_ -"

"Then depressed. Frightened. Confused. A lot happened yesterday. You can't expect him to go on as normal when his world was flipped upside down."

Arthur shook his head. "He looks like a big boy. He needs to pull up his britches and get on with it."

 _"Arthur."_

 _"Francis."_

"It's not his fault."

"Are you fooling with me? This is wholly his fault!"

"It's not just him, so stop acting like it."

Arthur sighed. "Look, I get what you're trying to do, alright? I see it, and you need to stop. We're immortals- he's a traveler."

"It's not _about_ that."

"Yes it is. Don't lie to me. Timeys may be..." he trailed off, and then shook his head. "No one can escape time."

"We can delay it."

"No, we can merely live alongside it."

Francis shot a look back at Alfred, staring blankly at the counter. "Then what do you propose we do with him?"

"I've given it some thought during the night: as much as I don't want to, I think calling your little friends (a.k.a. devil's spawn) is a good idea. Maybe they can tell us something."

The Frenchman immediately brightened. "You're agreeing with me?"

Arthur sniffed, turning his head away. "As if. I'd have come up with the idea sooner or later."

 _"Magnifique!_ I'll call them now!"

"No, no. They could be anywhere, and they'd take forever to get here. I've a better idea."

He paled.

Arthur grinned. "Better finish those crepes, and then make a batch more. I'll welcome your friends for you."

"Please don't do this."

"If we're going to invite the Spanish pothead, human cat, and the albino demon, I'm going to have some fun. Go on now. I'm sure the timey is hungry."

 _"Bâtard."_

A few minutes later, Francis cringed and Alfred fell off his stool at the sound of an earsplitting shriek.

 _"WHAT THE F*CK!"_

"Glad to see you too, Lovino."

"Arthur! Wow oh wow! It's been a while, hasn't it? What brings us here?"

"Don't hug him, dammit!"

 _"Where's the beer 'cause the awesome Gilbert is here!_ "

* * *

Alfred was about to go see what had happened, but Francis grabbed his sleeve. "Don't."

"Why not?" he asked as the immortal fixed fresh fruit and two cinnamon-dusted crepes onto his plate.

"Trust me."

He stabbed his fork into a strawberry and settled for listening closely.

 _"We were in the middle of- put me down, you shitwad- something_ very _important!"_

"Aw, its okay, Lovi. The Tomatina comes every year."

"Yeah, _once!_ Don't you know the meaning of 'annual', _idiota?"_

"Hey, hey, hey now: don't ignore me. Gilbert's here! The awesome has arrived!"

He heard Arthur snap, "Shut up and come into the kitchen. I don't like any of you."

"Way to say it plainly."

The American paused his chewing to watch the three newcomers follow after Arthur: a happy brunet; a shorter, sulking one trying to escape the former's hand; and a guy so pale he had no other choice but to describe him as an albino.

Francis managed a shaking grin. _"Bonjour, mon amis."_

"Don't you 'bonjour mon ami' _me,_ pervert."

"Don't be mad at me. This was all Arthur."

The Briton frowned. "You're the one-"

Francis waggled a finger and clucked, his grin growing slier. "I thought you came up with the idea over night? Or else, you would have come up with it sooner or later. Oh, and, not in the presence of a child, _mon cher."_

Alfred looked on at this with a mixture of amazement and irritation. After all, it was really fricking awesome that these guys had just magically appeared in his house. But…these strangers had also magically appeared in his house uninvited and without his knowing.

The shorter brunet caught his eyes and scrunched his nose at him. "Who the hell are you?"

"I- I could ask you the same thing! What are you doing in my house?"

"Relax, we invited them," Francis hummed over the stove.

"Invited us! You let Arthur summon us through a portal!"

"Yes, well. It was that or nothing at all, and I had to take the lesser evil."

The albino got in Alfred's face, smiling widely. "We still don't know who you are." He turned his head to Arthur. "Hey, Mister I'm a Gentleman, aren't you going to introduce us?"

"I figured you could do it yourselves, but-"

"I'm Gilbert!"

Alfred leaned back. Jeez, this guy had no sense of personal space. "Uh. Hi. I'm Alfred F. Jones." He stuck out his hand, which Gilbert took and shook so hard and so violently he genuinely feared for the bones in his fingers.

"Gil! Move over! I want a turn! _Oye,_ Alfred F. Jones! _Mi nombre es_ Antonio Fernández Carriedo -but just Antonio is fine- I'm from Spain, my favorite food is churros, and I've lived for nine hundred seventy six years, which is more than Gilbert."

"Yeah, um, hi to you to."

"No contest, but I'm taller than you, anyway. But lemme start over, lemme start over. I'm Gilbert Beilschimdt, call me Gilbert, I have a badass pet bird-did you know seeing cute stuff is actually a form of panic?- I'm Prussian (German my ass), and I am eight hundred and twenty-six years old."

"Er…congrats?"

"Don't pester him," Arthur snapped. "Your voices are already giving me a headache."

Alfred waited for the third stranger to introduce himself. But he had his back to the wall with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, looking as if he had no intention of speaking unless probed to.

"Uh, and you?" Alfred instigated as politely as he could.

Antonio answered for him. "That's Lovino. He's Italian. Isn't he cute?"

The Italian sniffed disdainfully. "I can introduce my _self, bastardo._ And you, time traveler- don't rush me."

"I wasn't, but sorry." Oops. Wrong move. Now the Italian was glaring at him.

"If you must know right this very second, you can call me Lovino, as in Lo-vi- _no_ Vargas. Not Lovi or 'vino or any other nickname your stupid _Americano_ mind can come up with."

"How old are you?"

"It's impolite to ask, you asspad. But…" he smirked. "I guess you could say I'm around two thousand seven hundred and sixty-nine years old. So there."

Alfred's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

Gilbert slammed his fist on the counter, making Alfred's fork clatter on his plate. "Antonio, silence your man! I think being almost nine hundred is pretty damn old, too!"

Lovino stuck out his tongue. "The traveler asked. Call me when you've finally reached a millennia, Potato-Face."

"You're all really old!" Alfred cried.

"It's not supposed to be a _compliment,"_ Arthur hissed.

Alfred ignored him. "But I still have another question to ask y'all: what are you doing in my house?"

Gilbert put his hands on his hips. "I don't know. Maybe you should ask the stiff. Hey, Arthur. Why'd you portal us here?"

"We can go over this later," Francis answered instead. "I won't have my cooking go to waste."

* * *

Alfred returned to his spot on the couch, curling into himself. Lovino slumped down on the other end, taking up the rest of the available seats. Antonio and Gilbert didn't question it and merely sat down on the floor in front of them.

Arthur stood and clapped his hands. "Alright, good. We can start now." He looked back at Francis for confirmation. When the Frenchman nodded, he continued. "We've gotten introductions and breakfast over with, and now it's business."

Gilbert's hand shot up and waved wildly. Arthur sighed.

"Yes, Gilbert?"

"What's this 'business' you speak of?"

The other immortal sighed and pinched his nose. "If you shut up, you'll see. Please, save your comments and questions until the end. As I was saying: business. Back in the 1830's, Francis and I finally came into contact with Alfred after I sensed his presence nearly a whole century earlier. Though, our meeting was only yesterday for you, right, Alfred?"

He shrugged.

"Was that a yes or a no?"

"Yeah," he finally mumbled. "I was on an assignment."

Arthur nodded. "And then yesterday- the yesterday for all of us- he came into our most recent café, and we came into contact with one another once again. After jumping forwards in time to meet, we came here to talk about the current situation of Holes, which I am sure everyone is now familiar with."

Lovino snorted, and after Arthur had turned away his glare, held up his middle finger at the Briton's arse.

"However, Francis then had the brilliant idea to enter the Counter's room without any permission-"

"I sensed something bad!"

"- and Saw. It appears as if Matthew, the Counter; was pushed off the Circle, with his watch taken."

Antonio gasped, his eyes wide. _"¡Señor lo ayude!"_

"Comments at _the end._ But I have no reason to believe this was merely an unfortunate accident. Francis and I have come to the conclusion that the Axis Powers are responsible for this."

Lovino tensed, and Alfred saw Antonio anchor him down with merely a hand on his thigh.

"The Axis?" the Spaniard repeated. "Are you sure? They only go after time travelers."

"And, it seems, Counters. The Holes must be getting worse."

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I still don't understand. Why are we here?"

"We're going after him. Matthew, I mean," Francis replied.

Alfred was relieved. As much as he was unsure about the immortals, he didn't want to be left alone. He needed to find his Counter, but he didn't know where else to start besides to go to the Circle. Which he couldn't get to without his timepiece.

"And you want us to help?" Gilbert asked, not looking up. He was picking at the carpet, his face solemn.

"If you would. It may lead us to finding your lost travelers."

 _Lost travelers?_ "You mean these disappearances have happened before?"

"They're called the Axis. They're a group of immortals with the same goals as we have but choose…other ways of attaining them."

"That's it. I'm going."

They all looked to Lovino. The Italian was on his feet, ignoring the pleading look Antonio gave him. "You can't keep talking jack shit, it's not fair to him-" he jerked a finger at Alfred "- or to us. Once they're gone, they're gone. And that's that."

"Lovi, we don't know for sure." The Spaniard grabbed his hand, but he jerked it away.

"It's been five hundred sixty three years, one month and eight days, dammit. Without one trace, one hint, one lead of where Feliciano might be. He's gone, just like everybody before and after him. _Accept it already,"_ he spat, turning his heel and storming out. They heard the front door slam, and then Antonio sigh.

"He has a point," Gilbert finally said. "It's as if Ludwig's disappeared off the edge of the Earth…what reason do I have to believe he's still alive?"

Alfred responded. "Mattie is."

"Sure, kid. Sure."

He curled up a little tighter.

Gilbert nodded his head at Arthur and Francis. "I think it's a nice thing, don't get me wrong. A real good deed you two are doing, 'specially with your sort of past. But it's been since 1815 for me, and 1453 for Lovino. Don't you think we spent a good while looking for our travelers? We haven't sensed anything."

"Travelers?" Alfred mused aloud. There it was, that word again. What would these guys have to do with people like him? "But your immortals."

"Not all immortals were born immortal," Antonio whispered.

Gilbert smiled sadly at him. "Hell, it's probably not good for me to be around you. This nostalgia is going to give me a heart attack." He got up. "Well- Arthur, Francis. Good to see you, but this is too sentimental for me. _Tschüss."_

And then he left, too.

Alfred turned his confusion onto the first two immortals. "What's he mean? Time travelers?"

 _"Mon chiot,_ somethings are best to be experienced."

"No, no. Answer me. Why would they need time travelers, unless they're Counters?"

"Do you not know already?" Antonio asked.

"Please, _Antone,_ we haven't told him yet-"

Now he was scared. "What haven't I been told yet? Tell me! You guys are immortals, right? What time travelers was he talking about? Did you take them like you're taking me?"

"We aren't taking you, we're _helping you,_ which you are obviously displeased about-"

 _"What time travelers?"_

The Englishman kept his mouth in a thin line, and Francis busied himself with running his fingers down his hair. Antonio hummed, occasionally muttering something about a _'barkito chickito'._

"Seriously?" he sputtered. "No one's gonna answer me?"

"No one wants to, can't you see that?"

"But why would they be looking for time travelers? Just give me this one answer, _please."_

"You know what?" Arthur snapped. "Fine. The 1100s was when I was born- but it was the 1300s when I became immortal."

 _"Arthur."_

"Keep your mouth shut. I'm giving the boy what he wants." He pulled up his sleeve. "I found this fancy instrument way ahead of its time, though I doubt it even works now."

A silver watch with a black cover.

Arthur was a Counter.

* * *

 **NOwasthatpredictableorjustbecauseit'smeREGRETS.**

 ** _"...bonjour, mon chiot,"-_ "Good morning, my puppy." (French according to Le Parapluie.)**

 ** _Magnifique!-_ Magnificent! (French).**

 ** _"Bâtard."-_ "Bastard." (French).**

 ** _mon ami-_ My friend (French).**

 ** _mon cher-_ My dear (French).**

 ** _Oye-_ Hey (literally 'Hear') (Spanish).**

 ** _"Mi nombre es…"-_ My name is (Spanish)**

 ** _"Señor lo ayude!"-_ "Lord help him!" (Spanish)**

 ** _Tschüss-_ Bye (German according to Internet).**

 ** _barkito chickito (barquito chiquito)-_ little boat (Spanish spelled English) (in reference to el Barquito Chiquito Spanish children's song).**

 **I feel like write with a ton of dialogue. Please feel free to tell me if it's too much; I will try to cut it down in the future. The first part got a little choppy at the end, I know, but I'm not sure how to fix it. It's a little fast this chapter, but hopefully it makes do.**

 **Also, I know that Romano is younger than Spain in Hetalia, but I used important dates for the immortals' ages such as Roman beginnings for Lovino. So for story purposes, Lovino has been an immortal longer than Antonio.**

 **Also, I know nothing about crepes. Unless you count the American kind, where you spread them real thin and pray they cover the whole pan bottom...**

 **That's that. Please tell me what you think! Sorry for long note things. ¡Chao!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings: OOC-ness and spelling the f-word scaredy-cat style. Lovino gets this chapter, so there's probably more expletives used than necessary.**

 **Another note because when do I not do these: I'm writing more (again!) I'm doing a collab story with LeParapluie called _An Awfully Big Adventure._ It's a Peter Pan/ Neverland AU, and Spamano with a certain twist… The story is on LeParapluie's account, so if you want to check it out you can go there. It's going to be really fun! **

**xx Sveg**

* * *

Francis sighed, pulling up his own sleeve. "I hate doing this. I find it so ugly."

Antonio shrugged, running his thumb over his own watch's face. "Ugly and cruel."

"Are you happy now, timey? Now do you get it?"

No, he didn't. It wasn't his fault they weren't making sense. His brain wouldn't process what his eyes were seeing.

"Alfred, sit down."

He didn't remember getting up, and made no move to return to being seated.

 _"Désolé, désolé._ We would have told you, but then thought it best to-"

"Counters," he mumbled. "All of you?"

"All of us."

"Why- why didn't you tell me?"

"You don't need to know every single little thing about us. In fact, you'll find that most people keep secrets that are meant to be kept, and in respect others don't pry into their private lives-"

He laughed. He put his hands atop his head; it was so unbelievable. And once he started, he couldn't stop. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his stomach hurt, but he couldn't stop.

"Counters," he sputtered, walking up to the entry way and looking up at the ceiling through teary eyes. "Counters. Sorry, but April Fools Day was months ago."

Arthur followed him, tugging his sleeve back into place. "This isn't a joke!"

"Yeah, sure. Now listen, I'm gonna go for a walk before it gets too hot. You're cool with it." He opened the door, slammed it shut, and prayed they'd let him alone.

"Ah," Lovino said from his place on the front step. "I guess I was right: you are a real idiot."

"Get the eff off my porch."

"Wow, super threatening. I got especially scared at the abbreviated expletive. I think you meant f*ck."

"Get the _f*ck_ off my _porch."_

"Better, but you forgot the 'please'."

"What are you even doing here?" he growled. "I thought you'd left."

The Italian jangled a ring of keys from his fingers. "We were summoned, dumbass."

"Are those to Mattie's truck?!"

The Italian shrugged and the keys disappeared into his pocket before the traveler could reclaim them. "Finder's keepers, losers weepers."

"Then what the hell are you still doing here?"

"The _capo di merda_ can drive. I'm not going to."

Alfred thought this over and, deciding it wouldn't make any difference, plopped down beside him and put his face in his hands. "Then if you aren't going to leave, then maybe you'll answer a few questions."

"No, thanks."

"Is it true you're all Counters?"

"I just said 'no thanks', idiot. Do you need it in writing?"

"Is it _true?"_ he repeated more forcefully.

Lovino leaned back, refusing to look at him but instead at the sky. "I don't like telling stories."

"I thought you were Italian; you're supposed to love talking."

"If I answer all your stupid questions, will you shut up?"

"If you answer all of them. Fully. To my liking."

The Italian smirked at this. "Eh, fine. Maybe it'll piss Fran-sissy so much he'll stay away from my tomato bastard. Yes, they're telling the truth. We're all Counters."

"Even Gilbert?"

"I said 'all', didn't I?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. But…" He chuckled. "God, how?"

"Feliciano was my brainless brother."

"What?"

"At least try not to interrupt. Feliciano was my traveler. I was lucky to get him just to the Circle, and it was nearly impossible to get him to do one assignment right. He couldn't complete a mission for his life. Much rather be sleeping or eating. He was terrible; and it annoyed the f*ck out of me.

"I was pretty lucky, though. Most Counters have to go out and find their travelers. I practically had mine handed to me. He didn't have the chance to go get himself in trouble, not since I was around. Most Counters don't even make it to their travelers in time. Antonio never even met his, and neither did Arthur and Francis."

"I don't get it."

"You would if you'd just shut up. Their travelers died before they could get to them. It's simple, really."

"No, I mean the whole finding travelers part."

Lovino hiked an eyebrow high on his forehead. "Did you think it was just always you and your Counter?"

"Well, yeah. And I've always had my timepiece." _At least, up until now._

"Wrong. Yes, you've always had your timepiece. But that doesn't even matter if you didn't know how to use it. That's what Counters are for."

He vaguely remembered Mattie teaching him the fine art of traveling. But he didn't remember meeting him for the first time. He was just always _there._ "So Counters go all over looking for people with the locket watch?"

"Singular- _person._ And it's not just all over the world; it's all over the Lines. Past, Present, Future- you name it. A traveler could be anywhere, and they're sitting ducks until we come along. But we're only allowed one jump a year, which makes the whole thing practically impossible. That's why a lot of Counters lose their travelers before they even know where they are. Some supernaturals would kill for a traveler."

"Supernaturals?"

"God, you're annoying as hell. Yeah, supernaturals. Like elementals and wing people, immortals and some other weird-ass stuff. We're not really supposed to know about the others. It's the immortals after traveler heads."

"But you're an immortal, aren't you?" he asked cautiously.

Lovino snorted. "Didn't you listen? Not _always._ I don't know anybody who was born happened after I lost Feliciano. Make sense now? It's the same reason all the others are immortal, too. But it's Gilbert and I who've lost their travelers while on duty. We're the only ones who knew our travelers, and personally. Ludwig was Gilbert's brother. We had it easy from the start, so I guess that's what made the end so hard. Don't ask another question."

"Don't give me an opportunity to. So you lost Feliciano. Was he killed?"

"You know, Americans are rude."

"I need to know. Did he die or just disappear like Mattie?"

"Disappearing is just as good as dead, shithead."

"Alright, alright. But from what I've gathered, Counters can sense travelers when they're near- that's how Matthew must have always known where I was. So wouldn't you just go back and look for a new traveler?"

"A _new_ traveler?" he spat. _"A_ new _traveler?"_

"Okay, so subject is a little touchy-"

Lovino grabbed him by the collar and yanked him close. "Now listen here, you _motherf*cker._ Feliciano was _mine._ Feliciano was my _brother._ Are you going to sit and wait for another Counter now that yours is gone? Is that what's gonna happen? Huh? Say it again, I dare you. Tell me to go look for a new traveler. Go on and do it, you little _twerp."_

Alfred swallowed, his eyes darting down to Lovino's fists. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, my bad. That question was worded wrong. Sorry. I mean, is a Counter-traveler relationship individual? Like, am I always meant to be Matthew's traveler?"

Lovino let him go, though didn't appear to be any more relaxed. "Feliciano will always be my traveler."

"And once he disappeared, you couldn't find him again. You were back at start."

"When I mean gone, I mean gone. I couldn't sense him, and I'd- I'd never experienced that before."

"Because of these Axis dudes."

"Yes."

"And they're the bad immortals. Were they Counters as well?"

The Italian immortal shrugged. "I don't know. It makes sense, though. Think about it: someone's traveler dies, so they spend the rest of their lives stealing other ones."

"So there would be no reason to take Matthew."

Lovino sighed. "They're trying to prevent the Holes from growing any bigger. You should now this already."

Alfred bit his lip and leaned back beside him. "I think I've only got one more question left."

"Good, you weren't supposed to ask any."

"Am I immortal?"

 _"Cosa?"_

"You heard me. I live in the Present, and Mattie says I look around eighteen or nineteen. But I've lived a lot longer than that, I know it. If there wasn't something different about us, then how have we lived for so long? Surely jumping around doesn't completely stop time from affecting us. You said a Counter has to go and look for their traveler, which has to take years. I don't remember meeting Mattie, but I still remember pretty far back. Like late 1700's." Saying it aloud scared him. He'd come up with the possibility before any of this had even happened, but had quickly snuffed it out. Matthew had never mentioned anything about it, so he had decided to just let it go. Figured it was because he and Mattie could time travel, that he could control time.

Lovino laughed. "So you've got brains after all."

"I was right?"

"You said you had one more question, and you've already asked it. I'm closed to business, traveler." He sat back up.

"Wait, wait!"

"I said no more questions."

"Then I won't ask, I'll just order."

"Order? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"A timey. Now let me see your watch."

Lovino shot up. "No!"

Alfred got up after him. "Yes. Come on, I just want to see it."

"It's mine, and it's private, and if I don't want to show it to you then I won't!"

"Don't be such a pussy and show it to me."

"No!"

"Lovino Vargas, show me your watch." He tried to grab his sleeve, but the immortal jerked his arm away and started running. "Come on, where are you even going?"

"Anywhere but near you!"

Alfred rolled his eyes and jogged after him. Despite being small and lean, the Italian didn't have much speed, and screamed bloody murder when the American caught up to him and clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Don't do that, our neighbors will order a noise complaint." He pinned his arms at his sides and then hoisted him up over his shoulder, whistling.

 _"Put me down, you f*cker!"_

"Sheesh, talk about a public disturbance. Save the cussing for home, alright?"

Lovino kicked and pounded his fists on his back. He thought it was supposed to hurt, but he guessed Lovino wasn't very strong because it just felt kinda good.

"What do you even need my watch for? Go look at someone else's!"

"They'll get suspicious."

"Suspicious!"

"Yeah. You in or out?"

"Of what?"

"The plan, dude. Can you follow me?"

"Follow you?"

"Yeah. If I travel somewhere, can you use your watch and follow me? Or does it only work with your own traveler?"

"I've still got my yearly jumps without my traveler. What are you doing?"

"They took my timepiece. I'm going to get it back and then go after Matthew."

"And you think I'm not going to tell them about this?"

"Nah. I'm a time traveler, you're a Counter. We could both be immortal- I don't know; you still haven't given me a clear answer. Arthur and Francis aren't telling me something-"

"Wow, sush _astute_ powers of observation."

"- and I bet there's something Antonio's not telling you. We'll check the whole Axis thing out on our own. The others don't understand. They never had a traveler, not like you did."

Lovino's fists paused.

"They said Matthew fell off our Circle. So we'll go there."

"You don't have your locket watch."

"I'll get it back."

"Feliciano disappeared."

"So did Matthew."

"…We're going to kill ourselves."

"Ah, a 'we'! So you're in."

"Not for you. And it's just going to be us."

"Of course, buddy."

"Call me that again, and I will tear your head from your body."

* * *

 _ **Désolé-**_ **sorry (French.)**

 _ **Capo di merda-**_ **Boss of shit (Crossing my fingers that's good-enough Italian.)**

 _ **Cosa-**_ **What (Please duolingo, host of the judgmental owl: DO NOT FAIL ME. Italian.)**

 **Accckkkk I only looked over this once so sorry for any mistakes. I'm really close to meeting my Camp NaNo goal and I feel like I'm crawling over a hill with bleeding fingernails. Sorry.**

 **Viva la GerIta,**

 **Sveg**


	12. Chapter 12

He closed the door with a squeak. Antonio and Lovino had left just minutes before, the Italian shooting him a smirk as he dragged Antonio to the truck and ordered him to drive. Alfred had saluted at his back.

"Hey," he called into the empty hall. "I'm back, just in case any of you give a shit about me."

"Are you done having your little temper tantrum?" he heard Arthur call from the kitchen. He ducked his head around the corner to see him scrubbing the counters furiously.

"I wasn't having a temper tantrum. I was sitting on the front steps and talking to the Lovino guy."

At this, the Briton paused in his scrubbing. "As in, actually talked to him? About what?"

"Stuff."

"Oh, please. We called them over for a reason, and they provided no aid at all. Was Lovino...I don't know...helpful?"

"That's none of your business."

"Fine, fine. But at least tell me if he talked about his brother."

"Feliciano? I made him tell the whole story."

"And you're not joking?"

"Yes, Arthur, I'm joking," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. " _He_ was the only one who at least answered most of my questions."

"Did he tell you anything you didn't already know?"

Alfred shrugged, leaning forwards. "Where's the Frenchie?"

"Francis caught sight of the garden in the backyard and decided to do his 'daily charitable act' and attempt to criticize it out of disrepair."

Alfred leaned forward to look out the big window-doors behind the dining table. Indeed, the Frenchman was leaning over a flowerpot, frowning at a wilting palm. It appeared as if he wandered wherever he pleased, not caring if it was deemed impolite or not. "Frog," he muttered under his breath, copying Arthur, who would have kissed him if he had heard.

"Alfred."

He turned his head back. "Yes?"

"Ask me anything."

"And you'll give me an answer."

"Yes."

"Hmm. I'll have to save that one for later. I know enough right now."

"You can't _save_ it. I'm saying it now, and if you don't take the chance then you'll just have to miss it."

"Nope, I'm good. You said it, so word particles are in the air, I'm taking those word particles and saving them for later. They'll be more useful."

"You don't have _any_ questions?"

"I'll always have questions- it's a known specialty of mine. But I figure that if I wait long enough, I'll stumble across an answer now and then. Like, am I immortal?" he shrugged and continued before Arthur could get anything out. "It's a very logical answer to how you're all immortals. Is there something you guys aren't telling me? Wait, I already know that one- yes. Where is my timepiece? I don't know, but you can bet I'll find it."

Arthur pursed his lips.

"Don't give me that look, and don't say I'm not going to find it, either. It's mine, and it's always been mine. Matthew needs it to track me."

"Your Counter doesn't track your timepiece, your Counter senses _you,_ as in the _traveler."_

Alfred winked. "Ah hah: another question answered."

"Why, you little rat, I was trying to be gracious and-"

"Look, I don't need nice. I need a game plan. Matthew fell slash was pushed off the Circle by some dudes called the Axis, who are also immortals. Don't know why they're after him, but okay. You guys were after us for the Hole problem- again, okay, not sure what we're supposed to do about it, but alright. We're all going after Matthew, and possibly figuring out what happened to some lost time travelers. Which means we're actually going after the Axis, too. The only info I have on them is that I think they're the bad guys."

"Ask your question."

"No, I'm not finished. You two are basically keeping me hostage since I can't escape (at least, not for very long) without my locket watch. So that's why I assume you two are coming with me to go and get Mattie. I think Lovino'll come with us. He's a chill dude. And if he comes, I can only guess Antonio will be dragged along, too. It's like that book 'If You Bring a Mouse a Cookie'- Lovino goes, so Antonio goes, and since two of his gang is going, Gilbert will think he'll have no choice but join the group. Considering you 'summoned' them from who knows where, immortals are all around the world, which means information is all around the world. Somebody's got to have something good, and once we've pieced most of the puzzle together, the rest is a piece of cake."

"Dear Lord, boy." Arthur shook his head, running a hand through his hair, and then abandoned tidying the kitchen up all together. "You've got brains after all."

"You know, Lovino said something like that, too. I don't know why people are so surprised."

"Ah, ah, ah. I'm not _agreeing_ with you. You're the minority here: we'll take a vote on which plan we'll take. You don't even know if Lovino will come, and you can't travel without your watch. So you have to yield to us, not the other way around."

Alfred spread his hands out before him. "If that's what you think."

He slept in Matthew's room again that night. There was something about knowing that someone was there in bed, even if it was just himself. He had managed to get through the rest of the day with his chin up, but the back of his neck prickled with apprehension. He had to get his timepiece back. He wasn't sure who had it: Arthur or Francis? They could have it on them or hidden it, maybe even given it to Antonio while he was still there.

He didn't feel as lost as he did yesterday, and there was definitely no way he was going to let himself get away with crying again. But he still didn't feel _right._ Of course, nothing was exactly normal right now, but he didn't think he should have been feeling so weird. He couldn't place it. He had tried to pin it on having Arthur and Francis take over his house, but something inside told him that wasn't it.

He curled up tighter, pressing his nose into Matthew's pillow and inhaling his Counter's scent (maple syrup and for some odd reason Indian food). He'd have to remember to wash it before he left- Matthew would not be pleased to have a pillow streaked with Alfred's snot and tears.

And he _would_ get his Counter back. The immortals seemed to have completely given up on finding their lost time travelers, but he sure wasn't going to for his Counter. Matthew had been there for him whether he liked it or not, and now it was his turn to return the favor. Lovino was over two thousand years old. He wasn't sure when his Counter had disappeared or when he'd stopped looking for him, but he still had an eternity to find his Feliciano. Alfred could live twice as many years as Lovino, but no matter what- _no matter what-_ he would never, ever, _ever_ stop looking for Matthew. Even if his Counter wasn't even on Planet Earth anymore, or on any Timeline. He'd never stop.

It bothered him that these immortals had given up so easily. With eternity before you, isn't a millennia barely a minute? Even if their travelers were killed, wouldn't they be looking for revenge? Why not seek out the Axis and fight? Why not contact their superiors (whoever they were) for help?

And the worst question of all: _Why didn't Matthew trust me?_

He had been completely cut off from the rest of the supernatural world. According to Lovino, there were all kinds of fantastical creatures roaming the Earth. Matthew had never even let him wonder that. He'd never told him that there were more of his own kind. He didn't tell him about Holes, but Alfred didn't know if he already knew about them or not. But…still. His Counter had to know something was up, if the Holes caused the blips in time that made the need for him to go on an assignment. But Matthew had never even told him who he was working for. The events of the past two days could have been utterly avoided if not for his Counter.

He rolled over to stare up at the ceiling. He couldn't dwell on these things right now. What happened had happened, and all he had was this Present that Arthur said caused Holes. He'd have to use it to its fullest.

 _Goal Number One: Get the immortal dudes to trust me._

 _Goal Number Two: Travel/ Gather information._

 _Goal Number Three: Get the immortals to trust me so much along the way that they return my timepiece._

 _Goal Number Four: Use information and timepiece to get Matthew back._

It was simple, really.

* * *

 **Alright! I'll be away, so I don't know if I'll be able to upload. I hope to, but…you know.**

 **Also, huge thanks to everybody who has reviewed and followed/faved these past few weeks. It means a lot to me. Gracias, grazie, merci, tak! I don't say it often enough, but just know that I am SO grateful when there's a new review, follow, or favorite. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

Ludwig Beilschmidt stepped through the portal and was transported in front of the Meridian. It was similar to a time traveler's Circle, but instead of open columns and a small meeting place, it was rectangular and house-like, with many rooms stacked upon one another. Ludwig had only ever been in one of these spaces, and that was the sitting room. He wasn't sure if there really was anything else; it could easily be an illusion. His boss had a liking for perplexities.

He paused underneath the wide sloping arch before the door, his fist poised to knock. He wasn't afraid, of course. He'd been reporting here for decades upon decades. No, the hot spark running down his back wasn't fear, but nervousness. He always allowed himself a few seconds to prepare to enter the base and face his boss. Not that his boss was particularly frightening. In fact, he could be rather calm and understanding, though he was quite strict. But that was okay- Ludwig understood schedule. Punctuality was a lost virtue, (something Agent Vargas did not comprehend), and efficiency often overlooked in effectiveness (Agent Vargas understood neither).

He rapped on the door one, twice, three times and called as flatly as he could, "Agent Beilschmidt reporting on today's mission."

The door was flung open, no one behind it. He stepped inside and began his march down the hall, staring straight ahead and pretending that other rooms and doors were nonexistent. He was coming for the third room on the right.

It was a large, open space without any doors. The floor was of polished wood and the walls were painted a slightly twinkling shade of red. The room was made perfectly symmetrical- it could be cut in half and each part would be identical down to the centimeter. Slung across one of the two yellow leather couches was Ludwig's supervisor himself.

The agent saluted, three fingers over his heart and his other hand clenched into a fist behind his back.

"At ease, Beilschmidt."

He let his arms drop to his sides. "Do you wish for me to give my report." He said it so emotionlessly it didn't sound like much of a question.

His superior gestured with his hand. "First, I want you to tell me: did you obtain target or not?"

He swallowed- here it was. "No, sir."

His boss sighed. "Continue with report, then. I want to hear your good reason."

"Powers went to the North American Present Circle and took cover, as directed. A period of two point two hours passed before one of its occupants returned near Agent Vargas's position. It was unclear of whether the figure was time traveler or Counter, but Agent Vargas made the decision to act before my signal."

The other man shook his head. "Ah, I see now. I assume that he went for Counter instead of traveler, then."

"You are correct, sir. Counter Matthew Williams returned to the Circle at eleven and a half hours this morning. Once he was jumped upon, Agent Honda and I made the decision to reveal ourselves as intruders. However, Agent Vargas's Power skills are not in anyway refined except for in the art of surrender. Williams easily overtook him and threatened to let him fall of the Circle."

At this, the superior laughed. "The General leaves his men so clueless. You are wrong about Agent Vargas- he is as proficient in acting as he is in surrendering."

"Williams wanted our identities, and I allowed him our names and our organization."

His supervisor frowned at this, but making no comment, Ludwig allowed a beat to pass before continuing on.

"I then sent Agent Honda to complete Agent Vargas's work. The Counter was thrown off and I aided Agent Vargas."

"You have the Counter's watch?"

Ludwig drew it from the pouch in the tied around his neck. "Yes, sir. Agent Honda managed to cut it from the Counter's wrist."

"Give it here."

The immortal handed it over obediently.

His boss held it up and inspected it. The silver gleamed though there was no light source in the room, and from his place in the entryway Ludwig could hear it tick.

"An interesting catch. I'm not entirely pleased that we missed Jones, but I can reason with new plan. This will surely get General's attention- one of his Counters under my jurisdiction." He snapped his fingers. "Alright, Beilschmidt. I will reroute Mission Jones. Do what you can with Counter."

Ludwig saluted.

"At once, Agent Beilschmidt."

He clicked his heels and left.

The man who called himself the Red Monkey, director of the Axis Powers, waited for the front door to close and for his Power to portal out before examining the watch again. He ran his thumb over its cover and flipped it open to reveal its glassy face.

He tapped a finger atop one of the black hands and smiled. "Haven't seen one of you in a while. So inferior."

* * *

Matthew hit ground. He knew he had landed on something, but his head didn't snap back and he didn't receive the brain damage he was wishing for. He lay there, panting and staring up at the endless white. The Circle had disappeared, and there was so much nothing he wondered he had actually died, and that this was purgatory.

"You've hit rock bottom."

Oh, no. This wasn't purgatory. This was hell. He watched German Surfer In Need of a Tan approach out of freaking nowhere, hands in his pockets and just as stoic as when he had first encountered him who knew how long ago.

"Means I'll have to climb back up," Matthew gasped, rolling over and struggling to his hands and knees.

"There's no going back until you're deemed acceptable by Red Monkey."

He laughed. "'Red Monkey'? Do you really expect me to believe that's someone's actual name?"

"The Red Monkey is our supervisor. You'd do your best to please him."

"Take me to him, then."

"When he wishes to see you. He sent me in his stead."

"Oh, great. Tell him that Red Monkey is as stupid a name as the word stupid itself."

"We have your watch."

Matthew pursed his lips, dropping his head to stare at the thin red line across his wrist.

"The Axis director would like you to know that you will not be getting it back. He is, however, willing to grant you the thing you've always coveted."

"Excuse me?"

Ludwig reached into his front pocket and produced a small watch suspended on a thin silver chain. Matthew's eyes widened.

"A traveler's timepiece."

For a minute, he was awestruck. But then he shook his head. "There's a mistake. I'm a Counter. The only timepiece I'll have is my wristwatch, thanks."

"Every Counter wishes for the freedom of being a traveler."

You are not supposed to know that. "I like turning into random objects at will."

"Which would be the only asset available to you, should you have your watch and be with your traveler. But the connection has been broken."

"You talk as if we aren't on a Timeline."

"We are at an intersection. We are on all three."

"If I can't use my watch to travel, then why did you take it from me?"

Ludwig didn't reply.

"Were you bluffing, Bellshit?"

"Beilschmidt," he corrected immediately. "The watch was taken so you would be unable to contact or track your traveler in any way. You have not used your annual jump without your traveler, either."

Ah. So these people were familiar with how the time travel community worked. His eyes returned to the locket watch the immortal still held. That must have been how they had entered the Circle. He wasn't sure how they knew how to get to it, but at least he had one piece to the puzzle down.

Ludwig noticed Matthew's examining and returned the timepiece to the front pocket of his uniform. "You will be allowed this piece once you enter as a Power. In order to be deemed worthy, you must comply to the Axis Powers."

"Sure thing," he growled.

Agent Beilschmidt jumped into a full report on his identity. "You are Matthew A. Williams. Counter for time traveler Alfred F. Jones. Occupant of the North American Present Circle. You've been given three thousand four hundred and twenty-two assignments, but you have only gotten your traveler to complete one thousand and four of them, six hundred and sixty-seven of them barely making passing marks. You are one of General Winter's men, having existed since the year 1000."

He knew about the General. He knew about the General.

"However, you didn't find your traveler until about eight hundred years later in the 1770's, during the Revolutionary War era. You were searching for much longer than that, having spent a number of years in the future and jumping two hundred years in the past to work your way up. You sensed Alfred F. Jones on the Present Line near Quebec, Canada. Despite your watch leading you too him, you weren't able to get to him fast enough. He was killed, and you used our annual jump to return to the Past and find him once more."

He didn't want to be reminded of this. He didn't need this immortal to tell him of his own mistakes.

"Since then, you have been working through the assignments the General has given you, though you rarely explain them to your traveler. Jones keeps asking you questions, but you never answer him." He allowed himself a small bit of emotion. "How pitiful. You've left your traveler defenseless."

"You won't get him like that last time," Matthew spat.

"That's completely his choice. You aren't there anymore to protect him. Whatever comes next is on his own."

"I won't let you take him."

"Unfortunately, the next opportunity you'll have to shield him is when he's already here." He turned his back to the Counter. "I wouldn't wander if I were you."

"Get back here, I didn't tell you to leave yet!"

Ludwig halted, but didn't turn.

"If you know about the General, then you surely must also know of his unpredictable nature. Once you've set him off, there's no amount of water that can put him out. Taking me wasn't your smartest move."

"If you've heard about the Axis, then you also know that we've been stealing from the time traveling community for years. I don't think the General has that much time to be missing you."

"You've kidnapped a Counter. Don't you know what's going on, Power? We're trying to patch up Holes."

"By making more of them."

Matthew had nothing to say to this.

"But you already know that. Good talk, Zähler."

No matter what he did, he was always a disappointment.

* * *

 **Zähler- Counter (Google Translate German).**

 **So I put some not-so-settle-hinty-hinty-wink-winks in there. The Red Monkey is a name for a reason, though I don't know how obvious that reason is.**

 **This story has changed a lot since I first started writing it. I'm trying to go with it and I occasionally change the summaries, but if there's something confusing feel free to message me about it. I originally planned on Francis getting captured, but now I don't know how to fit that in and I don't want to force it. There's nothing about it in the story though, so I think it's okay.**

 **General Winter and the Red Monkey. I wonder I wonder…**

 **Anyway, good stuff coming up. Fun stuff. Favorite scene stuff.**

 **Sorry for the long note. I'm an amateur, but I'm trying to make this as good as it possibly can. -Sveg**


	14. Chapter 14

**So this was some trouble to upload. I have to use my laptop since my computer is so slow, which would be fine if I could just upload this file to the website. So I had to copy-paste, which then took out some of my italics for some reason. So I apologize for any mistakes. Crossing my fingers that this doesn't turn out to be a bunch of code.**

* * *

 _"You're going to kill us all!"_

Alfred slammed his hand on the wheel, making the whole car reverberate with its honk. "It's not my fault that these assholes never learned how to drive." They were maneuvering their way out of Cincinnati. Francis had called up Antonio that morning in order to ask him to reconsider helping them find the Axis. The Spaniard had interrupted him with the address he and Lovino were staying in "close by" and what time they should be picked up. Upon hearing the news, Arthur had given a pointed look to Alfred, who had perfected the art of pretending not to notice. The three of them were now in the time traveler's 2004 Ford Fiesta: Arthur about to soil himself in the front, Francis sulking in the back, and Alfred at the wheel.

"Maybe you'd be more comfortable if we switched seats," the Frenchman suggested.

"I'd be more comfortable if I knew that the timey wasn't going to send us flying off this bridge!"

"Excuse me, it's _rush hour_ , and _somebody_ was taking his sweet time doing his flipping hair."

"I like looking presentable, unlike a certain somebody who only combs his fugly eyebrows."

"Pugly? What do you mean, 'pugly'? You're the one who's more than once been mistaken for a woman!"

"That's a compliment!"

Alfred came off the bridge and swerved into the left lane.

Arthur's knuckles were bone white from gripping the seat so hard. "Dear Lord, I'm going to vomit."

Alfred shoved out an arm, his eyes locked on the road in front of him. "'Ey 'ey 'ey, not in the baby."

"Keep both hands on the wheel, brainless twit! I need fresh air. I need fresh air- Where's the goddamn button?"

"Can't you see the crank windows, _rosbif?"_

"Pardon me, I thought this was 2016!"

Alfred got off at the exit. "The next time you insult my car, you're gonna be tied to the top of it."

"And just where do you think you're going?" Arthur fumed. "This isn't the way to Antonio's!"

"They're all the way down in Missouri, for goodness' sakes. I'm the one driving, so I'm the one making decisions." He jabbed a thumb at himself. "And this guy wants that dollar sweet tea from Big M's." He pulled into the McDonald's drive thru line.

"McDonalds!" Francis exclaimed. "They don't even sell real food! _Mon Dieu,_ I can already feel it tainting me. We're on a- a- a quest for your Counter, and you've decided to stop for _viande des déchets?"_

"Do you guys want anything or not?"

"I'd rather starve than even be seen holding anything as atrocious."

* * *

Four Hours Later

"I'm starving," Francis moaned, slung across the backseat. "Let's stop for lunch."

"I have to agree," Arthur replied quickly. "We've been driving since eight, and now it's noon. Let's just see what's at the next exit, and we can relieve ourselves somewhere. You can take a break from driving, Alfred."

Alfred was inclined to do neither. He was going to prove Angie (the self-centered little priss of a GPS on his phone) wrong. Six hours and seventeen minutes? He could do it six and five minutes. I-57 was going to be his bitch.

"Alfred, are you listening?"

 _"Continue on I-57, and follow signs for Interstate 57 South/Memphis for one hundred fourteen miles."_

He could see it.

"You need to get gas, anyway. Let's get off at this next exit; it won't take l-"

"Hell yeah Missouri welcomes me, I am the _prince!"_ Alfred screeched at the Missouri state sign. "Show me what? _Show me what?_ Show me some _respect!" *_

"Timey, did you hear any of that?"

"Sorry?"

Arthur sighed. "Turn off at the next exit. We've been driving for hours. We'll get something to eat, go to the washroom, and take a small break from the road. If you like, I can take a shift at the wheel."

"Oh, no. I'm not letting just anybody drive my baby, especially not some British dude who'll drive on the wrong side of the road and get us arrested."

"I'd rather be arrested than killed!"

"The only time I'm stopping is when we're in New Madrid, Missouri, U.S.A.** Which will be at approximately fourteen point six hours."

"But I have to use the toilet!" Francis wailed. "I can't maintain my natural beauty being squished in this car!"

"Three words: Driver. Makes. Decisions."

Arthur picked up the time traveler's large sweet tea and shook it. Only ice rattled inside. "You drank this whole thing! You can't tell me that you don't have to use the toilet at all."

"Nope." He was completely focused on getting to New Madrid by 2:10. Was going to tell mothertrucking Angie to eff herself.

"Then do you expect the rest of us to soil ourselves?"

"Pee in my car and I will murder you."

"Then take the next exit!"

"If you have to take a piss, do it in the cup."

"Barbarian! Is this a form of American torture? At least stop for food!"

Alfred tossed the McDonald's bag at Francis. "Chow down on some French fries, Frenchfry."

Francis's screams could have shattered the car's windows.

* * *

Two Hours Later

The immortals could have cried for joy when Alfred took the glorified Exit 49.

"He's turning, Arthur! He's turning!"

"I see _civilization!"_

 _"Continue on I-55BUS/US-61 South/US-62 West."_

Alfred's eyes darted down to his phone. Five hours, fifty eight minutes, thirty-seven seconds. He was going to make it. His foot pressed the gas pedal a little harder.

"I don't want to die!"

"Stop moaning!" he snapped. "You're immortal, remember?"

"I don't want to nearly die!"

"I agree- slow down, you twit! Jesus Mary Joseph and the donkey-"

"Both of you: stop whining or so help me I will drive loops around this Burger King drive thru. And Burger King actually _sucks."_

Eight Minutes Later

 _"You have arrived at-"_

Alfred slammed on the brakes with a triumphant whoop. "In your face, Angelica! Who's the best driver, guys? Say it, I want to hear it. Who got us here in less than six hours, seventeen minutes? That's right- this guy."

He received no applause for his astounding accomplishment. Instead, two car doors slammed as both Arthur and Francis fell on unsteady feet out of the vehicle and raced up to the door of Antonio's quaint little house.

The Briton didn't even bother with being gentlemanly. _"Carriedo!_ For the love of the Queen, let us in!"

Francis hastily redid his hair. "I need to use _le toilette! S'il te plait!"_

The door creaked open, and Alfred saw a quick flash of Antonio's pale face. _"Espera, espera!_ I know I said around two***, but I thought Lovino would be up by then, but he's not and I really can't risk the police again, they're already suspicious-"

"Let your _ami_ in, Antoine! I was trapped in that death machine with that madman!" the Frenchman pointed an accusing finger at Alfred, who pouted. Wasn't anyone amazed at his punctuality? Him and his Fiesta- they made for the perfect team.

Antonio opened the door slowly, and was immediately pushed to the side as Arthur and Francis scrambled in.

"The washroom, Antonio! Where's your washroom?"

"Please, be quieter, you'll wake up Lovi-"

"Please, Antoine!"

The Spaniard put his hands over his head and blurted, "Down the hall, first door to the right!"

Alfred was just closing the front door when they heard another door slam. There was a desperate French wail and a very British shout of triumph, an angry Italian bellow and the crying of one fearful Spaniard.

* * *

"Come on, y'all, sing with me! _Ninety-nine bottles of milk on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of milk! You take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of milk on the wall. Ninety-eight bottles-"_

"Will you stop trying to summon the devil with that song?" Arthur snapped.

"It's a classic. You can't pass up the classics. _Ninety-eight bottles of milk on the wall, ninety eight bottles-"_

"I dare you to continue," Lovino growled. The two new additions to Team Kick Axis Ass sat cramped in the back. Despite Antonio's coaxing, Lovino refused to sit next to him, opting to sit on Francis' right and make the Spaniard have to reach over for him. The Italian had barely uttered a word that couldn't make a movie be rated R, and had come storming down the stairs screaming _"Io vendere la tua anima al diavolo!"_

Francis, stuck in the middle of a pitiful Antonio and a grumpy Lovino, looked severely uncomfortable.

"Don't be such a sour puss," the time traveler clucked at his mirror, glancing at the three frowns in the back and pulling out of his spectacular parallel parking job. "We can get lunch now."

"Thank God," he heard Arthur mutter.

"-once we're on our way to Gilbert's." He opened up the GPS on his phone. "Where's our last immortal live?"

"Yes, where does he stay in America?" Francis asked. "It's a shame we don't get together more often."

"He doesn't have a place. I don't know if Gilbert's even left Berlin in the last two hundred years."

"Well, he wouldn't have boarded a plane, would he?"

"No, no. Hold on, I'll call him."

They waited in a mutual awkward silence for the Prussian to pick up.

 _"¡Hola, amigo!"_ Antonio finally greeted loudly. "Yes- Lovino and I are still here. We drove to our nearest place- you know, the one down in Missouri. Where are you?"

A muted mumble was all the rest of them could hear.

"Oh, I just want to know. I mean, Lovi and I-"

The Italian hissed.

"-were just thinking some things over last night in car, and decided that we were really too hasty to abandon the time traveler."

He held the phone out. "Say hi to Gilbert, everybody!"

"Hi!" Alfred exclaimed- and the only one to.

Antonio put the phone back to his ear. "See? We're all in the time traveler's car. It'll be fun! Just like that road trip back in the 1970's. Remember when Fran-"

 _"We promised to never speak of it again."_

"Yeah, it's going to be awesome. Absolutely going to be up to your Awesome standards. What do you mean, 'No'? You'd be such a great help, and Lovino was the one to suggest it in the first place-"

"-Amigo, but it's different this time. I've got a good feeling. We're going to get somewhere! If you won't do it for heaven points, then do it for Ludwig. Don't you think that he was thinking, 'My awesome brother is going to save me with his awesome powers!' when he was captured and probably hurt and definitely alone and crying and scare-"

The phone clicked as the immortal hung up.

Lovino clapped. "Wow, nice going, bastard. Way to go."

Antonio returned his phone to his pocket with a clueless shrug. "His connection must be bad. Or maybe he didn't want to use data."

"Did you at least get where he's staying?"

"Oh, yeah! He's staying in some hotel with a really weird name. It sounded like Radish? Razzon, Rad's Son-"

Alfred's eye twitched. "The Raddison?"

"Yeah! You know where it is?"

 _"Calculating route to Raddison Cincinnati Riverfront, 688 West 5th Street, Covington, Kentucky."****_

Francis started to cry.

* * *

An Eternity Later

They stood outside the giant corncob-shaped hotel, craning their stiff necks back to stare at the glowing neon lights. Antonio put his phone to his ear.

"Heeeeyyy Gilberto. Say we're back in the Cincinnati area and wanted to find you. Where would you be?"

 _"Verdammt, I said no!"_ came the faint buzzing reply.

"Okay, okay. So, like, what room at the Raddison?"

 _"No in English means the same as no in Spanish!"_

Alfred tugged at the Spaniard's arm. "Here, let me have it. Yo, Bertie."

 _"It's Gilbert, dummkopf!"_

"Yeah, yeah, I know. So listen- this is the time traveler by the way- you aren't from around here. So I expect you to not know that Cincy and Covington is, like, really German somehow."

 _"There's a street called 'Mainstrausse'- I think I could figure it out."_

"Good, so you know this place is right up your ally. Not so different than Germany."

 _"_ _Are you ffing kidding me right now?"_

"But you know what Germany doesn't have?"

 _"…_ _What?"_

"A Skyline."

 _"_ _Not to bust your bubble, kid, but even cities in Europe have really tall buildings."_

"No, no, no. Like, _Skyline._ As in Cincinnati chili and coney dogs. You interested?"*****

 _"_ _Not really, no."_

"There's this thing I call Weiner Soup," he added quickly. "Are you interested now?"

"I sure am," Francis called. "Come on, Gilbert. Be a team player."

There was a sigh from the other end. _"_ _Alright, fine. This better be good. Where's it at?"_

"Doesn't matter- I'm the one with the car. Look out your window; see the little red dot? That's my Ford." He waved up at the sky, hoping the Prussian would be able to see him.

* * *

A minute later, Gilbert Beilschmidt pushed through the front doors and came out into the sun, blinking at the light with an irritable sigh.

Stupid time traveler. Alfred's aura made his stomach twist, and he could hardly stand the thought of being stuck at the same table as him.

Nonetheless, he stepped forward and threw his hands into the air. "Hey, guys! Captain Awesome is ready for Zinzinnati!"

Alfred patted the side of his car- they must have all piled in while he was coming down. "Get in, loser! We're getting chili!"

He made an extravagant bow. "If the king pleases the peasants, then the peasants will serve him."

"Just get in all ready," he heard Lovino snap. Gott, did he ever speak civilly? Who stuck a stick up his butt?

He opened up the Fiesta's door and immediately frowned.

Alfred turned around. "What's the matter?"

"There's only three seats back here, and all of them are taken, _dummkopf._ Where the hell am I supposed to sit?"

Francis patted his lap. "Why on the throne, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks."

"We'll just have to double-buckle," the time traveler suggested. "It'll only be a few minutes."

"Do I look like I can fit in half a seat?"

"Fine. Then Lovino, sit on Antonio's lap."

 _"_ _I would rather suck a porcupine's dick."_

"Arthur and Francis?"

"Over my _dead body."_

Alfred rubbed his face. "Um…you could sit on the floor?"

Gilbert grimaced. "What am I, a dog? No thanks- I'll get dinner up top."

"No, no, no!" the traveler wailed. "Don't go, this is going to be fun! I promise!"

He stuck a hand out. "You invited me for dinner, but didn't even bring a car that can sit six people."

"If we had Mattie's truck, you could ride in the back, but Lovino stole it."

"I had to get to Missouri somehow! What did you expect me to do, walk? You can thank the asshole in the front for summoning us all the way from f*cking Spain!"

"Just sit on Francis's lap," Alfred sighed. "You don't even have to wear a seatbelt."

Gilbert sat on the floor.

* * *

 **Be Prepared, this is gonna be long.**

 ** _viande des déchets-_ Garbage meat (French).**

 ** _S'il te plait-_ Please (possibly) (French?)**

 _ **Espera-**_ **wait (Spanish)**

 ** _"Io vendere la tua anima al diavolo!"-_ I will sell your soul to the devil (Italian. Hopefully passable.)**

 **Honestly to lazy to translate the rest. Foolish assumption that we all know what amigo and ami and verdammt means because Hetalia fanfiction. Now for the diddly-doos:**

 *** Missouri is the Show Me state.**

 **** I had to choose something relatively close, but long for a drive. I looked up Spanish Midwest and New Madrid came up. However, I can't point out a time where I've consciously been to Missouri.**

 *****I think there may be different timezones. Pretend they don't exist?**

 ****** The Radisson. It's in Kentucky, on the other side of the Ohio River. I chose for Alfred and Matthew to live in Cincinnati for no other reason than I don't know what New York City is like at all. Also, Covington and Cincinnati melt into each other, though they are in two different states and on different sides of the river. So going back to the Radisson is just going back to Cincinnati. Also, despite what America says about Cincinnati, THERE IS NO CHINATOWN. And that's that.**

 *******Ah. Skyline. You can go on Buzzfeed video and look up Midwest food. They try it. It's pretty common, though I don't know where it's boundaries go. I know they don't have them in Texas. Texans would say Cincinnati chili isn't chili. Uh. You can look it up? It's a little diner-style with tableside service and all that.**

 **Well then, let's hope this works. Sorry for the note length. I really loved writing this chapter, and I hope it's just as funny to read as it was write. Reviews welcome (even critiques)! Also, CLAPS for the longest chapter yet ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Uhhhhh**

* * *

Gilbert finally got an actual seat once they had gotten a booth in the Skyline on 4th Street. Sure, he sat on the very edge of the seat, but he didn't feel so carsick anymore. Alfred was true to his word- it had only been a spans of about five minutes, but the immortal had quickly realized that the time traveler was not calm driver once he started yelling about "goddamn Ohioans aren't going make it to Florida!"

Also, sitting on the floor was the prime position for Lovino to kick. And with the American in the front seat, the Italian stomped his feet a lot. Having Antonio and Francis towering over him wasn't so fun, either. Next time, he was going to stuff Kirkland in the trunk and claim shotgun for himself.

"Cool place, right?" Alfred said in between long sips of his Coke. Gilbert himself had settled for a lemonade.

"Hmm," Arthur hummed in reply, taking an oyster cracker in between two fingers and inspecting it closely before returning it to its tiny bowl. "It's definitely _American."_

"Nah, dude. Skyline's Greek."

"I highly doubt that."

Yeah, it was a good thing to be sitting on the edge. The time traveler's aura was overpowering, and even breathing through his mouth he could smell his sickly sweetness. Even worse, it seemed to only grow stronger. During the drive, he pondered on who would be the least upset should he have to upchuck on their shoes.

Because Alfred was sickening. Intoxicating, as if he had drank one too many beers (as if!). The others didn't appear to be bothered about it all, but Gilbert barely concentrate. Looking at the traveler made his eyes burn, and his pulsing headache worsened once he noticed it. Damn, he wished this place had beer.

"What are you thinking about?" And oh, _Gott,_ his _voice._ It wormed into his ears, unwanted. It made him want to drill his head open and drag the sound out.

"Gilbert?"

He lifted his head at the sound of his name. "Huh?"

Francis stopped waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you alright, _mon ami?_ You haven't said a word this whole time."

He quickly mustered a half-hearted laugh. "Of course I haven't! I've been thinking about how _un_ awesome this place is!"

Alfred scowled. "Then what are you thinking about getting?"

Right, right. They still had to order. He hoped the American was covering the bill- he had blown all his money to stay in a bugless hotel for a night. He tried to focus on the menu, but his vision swam so bad he couldn't make out any of the words. "How about nothing? Everything probably sucks."

"Don't be such a sourpuss," Francis chided. "Even Arthur got something."

"Because at least a four-way isn't _fried."_

"I bet the spaghetti isn't even real pasta," Lovino muttered. "If I have to get something, you do, too."

Shit shit shit now they were all looking at him he couldn't have Alfred looking at him don't look at me don't look at me stop looking at me "I'm good. I had a late lunch."

"Come on man, it's on me. You can get the Coney Bowl. That's the real name for Weiner Soup."

Knowing that Alfred was paying _did_ make it better. And at least he'd given him something to grab onto- now he didn't have to flounder for something to say. "Sure. Coney Bowl. Got it."

Jeez, he needed to suck it up. There was no need to be such a baby about it. He got invited to go to _dinner,_ for goodness' sakes. Maybe they'd end up leaving him alone.

Alfred's next remark dashed any such possibilities. "So, Gilbert, my man. What do you do holed up in Berlin?"

"Stay away from people like you," he grumbled, smashing a cracker in between his fingers. If Alfred noticed his coldness, he didn't show it.

"Well, Antonio and Lovino joined the gang. You're still welcome to come with us."

"And sit on the floor of your car? Yeah, that's gonna be a no." _I can't stand to be around you. How does everybody else put up with it?_

"We'll rotate who gets the floor. I don't even know what use a car's going to be, anyway."

"The moment I get my hands on Internet, I'm booking a flight back to Berlin. And that's that."

"But-"

The traveler was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress. "Are you all ready to order?"

This thankfully diverted Alfred's attention away from Gilbert. "Yeah, I think so. It'll be three cheese coneys for me- no mustard, please."

"Onions?"

"No thanks. Just chili and cheese. Oh! And a plate of chili cheese fries."

The waitress's head turned to Arthur, who managed to say "three-way" with a polite smile. He woman's nose twitched amusedly at his accent.

His turn. He opened up his mouth and muttered "Coney Bowl" as quiet as possible.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Coney Bowl," he repeated a little louder, his ears reddening. But the waitress was oblivious to his obvious state of embarrassment.

Francis ordered a chili cheese sandwich so reluctantly he only flirted once- Alfred had not allowed any of them to get a salad.

"It's Skyline _Chili,_ not Skyline _Salads._ So everybody has to try the chili, no exceptions. I don't care if any of you are vegetarian- I'm not going to sit here and watch somebody eat sad green lettuce."

Lovino grumbled out a "Chili Spaghetti" so lowly the waitress needed him to repeat it twice, and Antonio practically exclaimed his order of a "Chilito", whatever the hell that was.

The waitress repeated all of their orders before leaving. Gilbert immediately wished for her back.

"As I was saying," the traveler continued. "Why not?"

"Why don't I want to come with you? Who wants be stuck in a crowded car?"

"Everybody here knows this isn't about the timey's mode of transportation, Gilbert," Arthur bit. "Do you think I'd be here if I didn't think there might be some useful result?"

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about our current occupations in public." Keep calm keep calm keep calm.

"It's nearly nine at night. No one is going to a Cincinnati Skyline at nine at night on a Wednesday. Come on, doesn't roaming around sound cool?"

 _No, it does not._

"What's the matter, Gilberto? You're not usually so… _puñetero."_

He waved Antonio off. "It's a little hard to be polite when you were relaxing in Berlin at one moment and suddenly in America the next. Not to mention being dragged into a _dump_ to talk about something I've already said no to."

"There's still no need to be such a wanker," Arthur sniffed. "You're being unreasonable."

"I'm not going to who knows where to find some time traveler's Counter. He was taken by the Axis, wasn't he? Newsflash: that means he's probably dead."

He heard Francis suck in a breath. "Now, now, let's try to be positive-"

"Being optimistic is the same as lying to yourself." He forced himself to look at Alfred. "You're a time traveler. You aren't one of us, so you wouldn't understand."

"Wow, I wonder _why."_

"Maybe Arthur and Francis didn't tell you, but it's all because of the _rules._ Counters aren't supposed to teach their travelers anything else than how to use their watch. It's the _General's orders."_ He couldn't help but spit that last part out.

 _General Winter._ When he had Ludwig, he'd thought the man some sort of god. Maybe time itself. He received his letters and then gave the assignments to his brother, who carried each one out dutifully. He'd had questions, and he was sure Ludwig did, too, but he kept quiet and his traveler never asked anything but more details on his mission.

But then Ludwig had disappeared, and so had the mysterious general. Gilbert had to seek out answers elsewhere, in the form of Francis and Antonio. But even they didn't have all the answers.

Maybe the general _was_ a god. But a trickster one who liked to mess up people's lives. A fake deity.

Alfred's glare melted into a quizzical look. "Wait, who's the General?"

Arthur set his head in his hands, and Francis pursed his lips. Antonio played with the collar of his shirt. Lovino frowned up at the ceiling.

The pale immortal laughed. "Ah, so he was a secret? Looks like the cat's out of the bag."

The traveler scowled and repeated more forcefully, "Who's the General?"

He leaned forward with a smirk- ah, he was enjoying himself now. "Looks like no one else wants to volunteer, so I guess I'll give the dog his bone. General Winter is the boss."

Alfred's eyes widened, and then turned to the others for confirmation. "Really? That's who we work for?"

"That's who _you_ work for, if you even still can," he corrected. "He's the guy who f*cked everything up."

"Is he kidding?" Alfred asked Arthur. The Briton merely lifted his head and closed his head with a resigned sigh. The traveler went for easier prey instead- the Frenchie.

"Is he lying, Francis?"

He bit the inside of his lip and replied, "I…a long time ago…I…I also received messages from a General Winter."

Gilbert jerked his head. "I bet he knows about Holes. It's even safe to say that he's behind the murders. He probably kills off time travelers for fun- just to watch Counters writhe like snails in salt."

 _"_ _Gilbert Beilschmidt,"_ Arthur snarled, as if he would actually listen.

"It's all just a sick _game,_ and we're the pieces, not the players. Oh, no. There's only one player, and that's the General himself. See, there's a checkerboard and we're the checkers. The General moves us around, lets us get close to the other side, and then takes us. He wants us to think there's a villain somewhere, but in the end, the only bad guy is the good guy and the only good guy is the bad guy. And it's all _him._ "

Arthur's face was bright red, while Francis had paled.

"Goddamn potato bastard," he caught Lovino mutter under his breath. "Being the asshole is my job."

Meanwhile, Alfred didn't know who to look at or what question he should ask. His mind was reeling. So there were things the immortals weren't telling him!

He was about to comment on this, but snapped his mouth shut when he noticed the waitress approaching, sliding dishes onto the table. So Alfred's snarky remark would have to wait- he smiled and thanked her instead.

Lovino stabbed a fork into his noodles and brought it up to his face, his nose twitching. "This is going to be disgusting, isn't it?"

Alfred shoved two chili cheese fries in his mouth. "'u 'aven't even tried i' yet."

"Presentation has its own merits." Arthur probed the chili distrustfully. "I have to wonder if the meat is even real."

"The cheese isn't," Francis complained, rubbing bright orange stands between his fingers.

"Skyline cheese is the best. They pile it on a little high, but that's so you can take it off and eat it plain." Alfred shook off the excess orange from his coney and dropped it into his cracker bowl.

Gilbert was disgusted- and that said a lot. Staring down at his three hot dogs sitting in a bowl of what looked like shouldn't be described, the churning of his stomach returned and he felt-

Dare he say it? Him, Captain Awesome?

- _sick._

Alfred finished off his first coney and had fallen to dangling fries above his mouth before letting them drop onto his tongue. "Come on, y'all. We're going to be sitting here forever; I've already finished off my first coney."

Lovino pushed his dish away. "I only eat real food, thanks."

"Antonio seems to like it."

True. The Spaniard was chomping through his Chilito like there was no tomorrow, ripping into the tortilla with grease dripping down his chin.

"How can you subject yourself to such torture?" Arthur gasped.

Francis put a hand over his heart. _"Mon ami,_ self-harm is never a way to solve your problems."

Alfred slammed his hand down on the table. "Three bites. I paid, so every one of you has to take three bites. Not skimpy ones, either- big, healthy ones, with the chili and cheese and everything. If you do a good job, I'll even pay for ice cream after."

"I don't need dessert. Just so you know, I'm only doing this because it would be extremely wasteful and rude to not eat a meal paid for by another." Under the traveler's watchful eye, the Englishman twirled noodles, chili, and cheese onto his fork.

Francis brought his sandwich up to his mouth, but only so he could lick the top of the bun.

 _Think about ice cream,_ Gilbert chanted. This turned out to be another crappy idea, since it made his stomach clench.

 _Stop being such a sissy._ He speared a hot dog and took a tentative sniff. It didn't smell horrible, which meant the taste couldn't be _that_ bad.

"Eat already," Alfred moaned.

"Don't tell me what to do," Lovino snapped. "And it's your car."

"Wha- no! No upchucking, either. If any one of you upchucks, there will be absolutely no ice cream."

Gilbert slid a bite off his fork and chewed as loud as he could in Alfred's direction- which also happened to be Arthur's, who gagged.

"You see? Skyline's not that bad." The traveler leaned back and stretched. "You've just got to give it a chance. Like me."

"You are far from impeccable, timey."

"So are you guys. Is anybody going to finish?"

"I did! I did! Do I get a Clean Plate award?" Antonio asked hopefully.

"You shoved down trash just for the prospect of getting a prize?"

Alfred clanged his fork against his plate. "Hey now, hey. Stop going off topic, I was getting somewhere! You guys gotta give me a chance to find these Axis people, 'cause I'm giving Mattie a chance to stay the frick alive. So Bertie, you in or not?"

"For the last time: my name is Gilbert. And you're terrible speech does nothing to help your case."

Alfred shrugged and sipped at his Coke, nonchalant. There were a few seconds of slurps and silence before he finally said in a low voice, "If you don't want to find your brother, that's fine. It's none of my business."

It was too much.

He stood slowly, despite Francis's efforts to get him to calm down. Alfred continued to stare at him with his eyebrows raised, as if he had never said anything at all.

He parted with only an "I'll be going now". He couldn't muster anything else- his stomach roiled and he was _definitely_ in danger of hurling.

"Gilberto! _Espera!_ The traveler doesn't know!"

"If the guy wants to leave, then the guy wants to leave," he heard Alfred say. He let the door clang shut before finally taking off.

Did he know where he was going? No. Did he even know where he was? Of course not.

Did he want to find his traveler?

The American was stupid. Clueless, as most were. He knew that. He shouldn't have taken Alfred's comment so hard. Gott, now they all thought he was some sort of pussy.

It was dark and humid and the city was quiet and unfamiliar and he was a sick sissy. He had ran away like a silly little girl.

Ludwig would be so disappointed in him.

He would have given him one of those looks- wouldn't have said anything, just stared at him and waited for Gilbert to spill. He trusted him, believed in him. And he was so little. He'd watch those blue eyes narrow and his forehead crease in disapproval-

Great. Now he was getting sappy. He really was sick.

Stupid time traveler. It was his fault. He should just accept reality- his Counter was probably dead, and there was a good chance he was next. The Axis stole, and he had yet to find out whether anyone had taken back.

It wasn't like Ludwig had just disappeared and then he'd just completely given up looking for him.

It wasn't like that.

It was when his watch felt dead on his arm. His timepiece had always felt _alive._ It ticked the way a heart beat, was warm against his skin when he was near his brother. But once the boy was taken…

It stopped. The hands stopped moving, and the watch turned cold.

Yeah, that was when he had given up. Because that was all there was to do: waste an endless life looking for someone who no longer existed or give up and march on.

The funny thing was, his watch still worked. But only once a year, the limit for any Counter's jump while they looked for their wards.

That was when he learned that he was screwed from the beginning. After all, if the General Winter controlled them, why did he send Counters on a wild goose chase for their travelers? Why would he allow travelers to be killed and taken?

He got up on a bridge, running over top the river. He slowed towards the top of its arc to watch the current swirl like waves of obsidian glass.

If he jumped, the black would swallow him.

He wanted it to. It would be just like old times.

He pulled up his sleeve, revealing his timepiece. He let its face gleam in the artificial light as he swung both legs over the rail and sat on the edge of the bridge, his legs dangling over the water.

It wouldn't be suicide. If he fell, he wouldn't be killed. He could swim to the very bottom, let an undertow take him, choke on as much water as he wanted, and he'd never drown.

 _Immortality._ It was a real pain in the ass sometimes. Liked to get in the way of him being dark and depressed. A Counter's curse, only made bearable by the existence of his traveler.

Yeah, Ludwig had believed in him.

But what made it so, so, so much worse was that Gilbert believed in his brother. Life was just a goddamn big reciprocal. Ludwig believed in him and he believed in Ludwig, so when he failed his brother his brother failed him.

Alfred was so naïve. Arthur and Francis were too soft. Lovino was too gullible and Antonio a pushover.

But not him. He could stare down reality in the face, call it a f*cking nutjob, and then give it a hearty kick to the balls because it had kicked him first.

 _"_ _Gilbert!"_

 _"_ _Gilberto!"_

 _"_ _Oi, Beilschmidt!"_

Didn't they get the message? Gilbert didn't want to go on another fruitless quest for his traveler. He didn't want to face any more disappointment, and didn't want to see another victim's face fall in realization that his brother was gone, Alfred's Counter was gone and he wasn't coming back and he just needed to get it into his head and move on because the Axis would probably come for him too so he better live life to its fullest and leave him the hell alone he didn't want blue eyes blue eyes like Ludwig's he didn't want to see them die again see the light go out of them he didn't want to he didn't want to he hated this game time was beautiful and cruel and worked hand in hand with that bitch memory and he wondered if _Gott ihm erlauben würde sterben._

 _"_ _Gilbert!"_

 _"_ _Gilbert!"_

"Leave me the hell alone."

 _"_ _Gilbert!"_

If his brother's disappearance and the freezing of his watch didn't prove Ludwig was dead, it was that his ghost still haunted him.

* * *

 ** _puñetero-_ bitchy (Spanish)**

 ** _Gott ihm erlauben würde sterben-_ God would let him die (Very Oogly-Googly-Wanslatey-Translatey.**

 **Yeah so that chapter happened. And I'm gonna be real here, I had a ball of a time writing it.**


	16. Chapter 16

**I was going to post this earlier during the week, but unfortunately *shudders* _school_ started back up. Due to what-shall-not-be-named, the double updates may sadly end. I don't know when I'll be able to upload- probably Thursday or Saturday. I'm not writing as much, so I've got to save some material.**

 **Thanks,**

 **xx Sveg**

* * *

"Gilbert!"

 _He turned around, flashing the boy a wide smile. "Yes, Luddykins?"_

 _His little brother scowled. "You're attracting attention. At least try to be inconspicuous."_

 _"_ _Are you calling me eye-catching? Aw, that's sweet, but I've known that for a long, long while now."_

 _Ludwig's face reddened in annoyance, which Gilbert enjoyed immensely. "Come on, let's finish the assignment."_

 _He'd received the mission this morning from the General- it was a simple one, barely a snag that needed mending. Ludwig was supposed to make sure a man stumbled in front of a lady so that there'd be 'love at first sight' or whatever. Ludwig took his job too seriously. Two people getting together was so insignificant. Ludwig took it as if the existence of the world depended on it._

 _"_ _Alright, there he is. You said gray suit, right?"_

 _"_ _Yeah, that's him. Catch the back of his heel or something when he's crossing the street. He's gonna trip, and then that pretty bird over there-" he swung his arm around before finally pointing out a woman in a tightly cinched peony dress- "is going to laugh and ask him if he's alright."_

 _"_ _Must I cause the man embarrassment? I might accidently harm him, and then the whole mission will be a failure."_

 _Gilbert snorted. "You've yet to get even a mediocre score. I sent my reports to the General- he says you're doing remarkably well, especially at your age."_

 _Ludwig's face reddened again, though this time because of flattery. He'd have to teach his brother to be more awesome- flaunt your skills, don't hide 'em!_

 _"_ _We might mess this mission up before we complete it. You're attracting a fair amount of stares."_

 _"_ _But if I don't use my albino powers, who'll hold your hand? A little ten year old boy, out by himself on the eighteenth century Parisian streets?"_

 _"_ _Gilbert!"_

 _"_ _Fine, fine." His watch grew warm, and his whole body trilled as he sank into a sort of transparency, melting into the background so perfectly no one would notice but Ludwig._

 _He fell into step besides his ward, who took a deep breath and stepped on the back of the target's shoes, causing him to stumble onto the street. A woman laughed, the man blushed, icky lovey dovey stuff._

 _He grasped Ludwig's hand and led him away from the street's bustle. "See?" he whispered into his ear. "There was nothing to worry about. It all turned out fine."_

 _"_ _I still can't help but resent the fact that I had to cause an innocent man harm."_

 _Gilbert's heart twinged, but he plastered on a fake smile. If his traveler was so reluctant to cause a man to trip…how would he feel about his later assignments? As he matured, The General would no doubt begin to send him on darker missions… Would he fail to commit a kill? "He just literally fell in love," he finally said in reply. "It was a pair of scraped palms or a lifetime of loneliness for two people. Which one would cause more pain?"_

 _Ludwig shrugged at this._

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _It's nothing. You don't have to be invisible any more. I'm ready to go back."_

 _He materialized, but did not use his watch. He bent down instead, taking both of Ludwig's hands and forcing him to look at him._

 _"_ _Hey, we just made some sad penguins into beautiful, chirping lovebirds. You aren't seriously down just because you had to make a man trip, are you?"_

 _Ludwig shook his head. "No. I think it's great that two people met each other. They don't know that they're going to fall in love and get married and have a family and then grow old and die together. And that's what's sad."_

 _This surprised him. Ludwig had never brought up anything like this before. "Death depresses you?"_

 _His traveler shrugged again. "I don't know. I think…" he trailed off._

 _"_ _You think what?"_

 _"_ _I don't think death makes me sad. I think it's the concept. Gilbert…it scares me."_

 _He still didn't understand. "It's perfectly natural to be afraid of what you don't know. And that's exactly what death is: the great unknown."_

 _"_ _No, no. That man and woman. It's improbable that they will die at the very same time, take their last breaths in unison. Most likely one will have to leave the other. And they'll have to live without each other, and I can't imagine what living does to things like love. Doesn't that scare you at all?"_

 _He shouldn't have such an intelligent future philosopher as a ward. He wished he was better at being a big brother. "Me? Scared? Don't make me laugh!"_

 _Ludwig averted his gaze. "Oh."_

 _He'd messed up again. Verdammt, it was going so well and then he had done and mucked it up. "Uh…I mean, you shouldn't worry about things like that. People like us aren't normal. We live for a long, long time."_

 _Ludwig turned his head back in the direction of the street. "That man could have a carriage accident and leave the woman behind as a widow. And she'll have to live the time she has left without her true love. She'll know that she should be happy that he's in Heaven, but as long as she's still living she'll still be alone."_

 _Gilbert scratched the back of his neck. "She'll join him sooner or later."_

 _"_ _But there's still time."_

 _"_ _Yeah, but look at it this way- the man will miss her just as much as she'll miss him. Grief isn't a one sided thing. It'll make their reunion so much sweeter."_

 _He gave himself a mental pat on the back._ Good job, Gil.

 _"_ _But the time-"_

 _"_ _-Won't matter. You're a time traveler, Ludwig. You shouldn't be worrying about death_ or _time. Now come on, let's get back to the Circle. I'll leave my report and then we can go home. We can have_ Bienenstich _for supper tonight."_

 _"_ _We're not having a dessert for supper," Ludwig replied flatly. He trailed his timepiece around its chain and went up in a blinding white. Gilbert followed after him in tendrils of black._

 _What happened next was a blur. He heard Ludwig cry out and saw him struggle in a man's grasp. A flash of red robes, a voice like honey, Ludwig screaming for him._

"Gilbert!"

 _Flying at an intruder. Reaching out for Ludwig. Gold, gold gold gold barreling into him, surrounding him, inside of him; gold everywhere, trapping him, separating him, making his brother leave him._

 _Pain in his arm, in his chest, in his head. A flare of black._

 _He hadn't completely got Ludwig's fear until he experienced it for himself._

 _Death was scary- once it was paired with love. Because death meant leaving and leaving meant waiting for time to pass to meet again._

 _Time was such a bitch._

* * *

 **Do I need to translate anything? I...don't think I do.**

 **Oh. Wait. _Bienenstich._ Yeah, I looked up German desserts on Wikipedia, so I have assigned it the vague definition of 'German dessert'. Yeah, that's good enough.**

 **I know this is a little short, sorry. And it's a flashback. Also sorry. And I make Gilbert go through a painful experience. I will not apologize because _there's more ahahahahahaha_ _First Alfred, second Gilbert, and then the whole_ WORLD.**

 **Hasta una otra vez- Sveg**

 **P.S. If you haven't already, feel free to check out _An Awfully Big Adventure._ You will find it on LeParapluie's account. It's Spamano in Neverland, includes the side French fry of GerIta. Also, the Nordics as mermen. Don't get close to Tino; he's known for drowning people. :) Chao mis amigoooossss**


	17. Chapter 17

**Pfft, missed an upload? What are you all thinking I _never,_ ever miss an upload...**

 **School started. School sucks. I haven't written a single WORD for TM since the twentieth of August. I want to finish this by October though, because I have to get ready for big-guns NaNo 2016. But sorry about last week, y'all! Time's hard to come by (how ironic).**

* * *

Alfred was the one to find him. The mmortal was sitting on the edge of the bridge, holding on to the railing with his head tilted down at the water.

"Hey, man," he whispered. There wasn't any real need to, except for the fact that if he startled him he could fall and then the others would make the traveler save him. Sure, he liked being the hero. But the Ohio River wasn't exactly _clean_ and he'd heard rumors that there were bull sharks and catfish so big they could swallow one whole in there.

Gilbert did not respond as he approached.

"Yo," he tried again. "I'm sorry I said that. I only wanted you to join the team. I'm sure you do want to find your traveler. Ludwig, wasn't it? I mean, isn't it? I just don't get it though. If you want to find him, why not go after the Axis? Even if he's…gone…wouldn't you want to get revenge?"

He was surprised to hear the immortal's voice so soft. "I'd rather just wait."

"For what?"

"To die. Sure, we're called immortals, but it's impossible to not run into death. It's going to happen one day, I know it. Ludwig's waiting for me on the other side. He's waiting for his awesome _bruder_ to join him up there." He gestured to the stars. "Grief isn't a one-sided thing."

"I'm impatient."

Gilbert snorted, but said nothing to this.

"I'm impatient, so I'm not going to wait for Matthew if he's dead. I've got to find out. Plus, he spent so long looking for me…I should look for him."

"It's not just that I want to wait for death. I also can't stand you."

Alfred sat back on his butt. Wow. The guy was sure blunt. "I can't say I'm not offended, 'cause I am."

"Do you know what you smell like?"

"Jeez, what is it with you guys and scents? What are you, immortal bloodhounds?"

"Apples."

A second of disbelief. "I'm sorry. You said I smell like _apples?"_

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah. And it's sickening, so if you would just move oh, I don't know, two thousand kilometers away from me, that'd be great, thanks."

He was sickening because he smelled like apples. His nights were beginning to never make sense. "Apples have a fresh scent," he retorted. "Nice and crisp."

Gilbert shuddered. "Not old, mushy ones."

So he was a rotten apple. _"_ _You all have the same rancid aura,"_ he remembered Arthur saying. He showered every day! He took that back. Every other day- but still often! "Do all time travelers have a smell?"

"It's all part of the Counter package. Sensing you, smelling you, developing skills to protect you. We send our whole lives trailing you."

"You don't have to."

Gilbert barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's a good one, kid. Real funny."

"I wasn't kidding. I can do just fine on my own. I've told Matt so."

"Oh, and that makes it completely true. If you were without a Counter-" he chuckled- "you'd be dead. The Axis would have snatched you up."

Alfred grit his teeth. "Yeah, well, I'm without a Counter now, and I'm doing just fine."

"Which is why you've enlisted immortals, former Counters, for help."

Oh. He was good. Way to take the advantage when he had one. The traveler looked for some witty response to this, but ended up using the real reason instead: "Arthur and Francis took my timepiece. I've no choice but to follow them."

"Hah. A traveler following some Counters. Never heard of that before. You're not following them, you're allowing them to help you. You're the one leading us around like some over-glorified shepherd with a flock of sheep. They're helping you because you're a time traveler."

"They're helping me because they want Mattie and me to stop jumping. We're creating Holes."

"If that was true, then they would have left you. They're work would be done for them."

"Then they'd join the Axis." The words left his mouth before he even thought about them. He was surprised, to say the least. He rarely came up with any good, quick comebacks.

He watched Gilbert mull this over, and was more than a little pleased with himself. He'd gotten him this time.

Or so he had thought. His few seconds of success were done away with once the immortal spoke again. "No. Arthur and Francis wouldn't cause somebody pain just because they got hit. They'd want to take on the Hole problem without the capturing of time travelers and inhibiting of Counters. Which is exactly what they're doing. It's useless, of course. Look at how far they got- you. As for finally coming up for a solution for Holes…if the General doesn't want us to find out, then we won't find out. We're always a little late, and that's that."

Alfred huffed. "You really are dead set on not coming. Did you _see_ your traveler die?"

"He went up in flames."

"Oh my God- shit, I didn't know that, I swear didn't know that. Sorry."

Gilbert threaded his wrist through the railing. "My watch is dead, too."

Alfred's heart skipped a beat. "You're watch doesn't work anymore? You can't do even the annual jump?" If a Counter's watch didn't work once their traveler was gone, then how would he and Lovino get to the Circle? He needed the Italian with him. He didn't…he didn't want to be alone. Did Lovino know about this? What if it was a trap, so he could tell the others his plans? Lovino was on his side because he'd known his traveler, unlike Antonio, Arthur, and Francis. He was supposed to understand, but now he probably betrayed him, was going to betray him from the start-

"The hands don't move anymore. We're frozen. I haven't even attempted a jump."

He relaxed. Lovino had said that he still had his yearly jumps. It was still all okay. "Maybe they're annual. Because you have to look for your traveler."

Gilbert turned to him. "You think so?"

"Yeah. And Gilbert? Once we beat the Axis, we'll be sure to give the General a hearty kick to the ass, too."

"I still doubt Ludwig's alive."

"Matthew is. We're going to beat the Axis, fix the Holes, and then start a revolution against the General. Does…does that convince you?"

Gilbert made a noncommittal grunt. "I suppose the whole General part is enticing. But your scent is not- didn't I tell you to scoot back? Tone it down a bit."

"Are we cool or not?"

"We can be, if you _back. Up._ You're going to make me sick, and if I do that I'll fall off."

"So you'll join us! Oh, that's great! Thank you, thank you, thank you! God man, I was scared. I mean, we don't really need you specifically- no no no, that's not right, I meant that we have Lovino and we could go without- no, I mean we need you, you'll be a valuable addition to our team- now I kinda sound like I'm reading from a script of a Marvel movie, don't I? You get my drift though-"

"Hey hey hey, I never said anything about-"

"-I think we understand each other better than you'd like to think. Great! The Fiesta is now going to actually be a fiesta!-"

Gilbert gagged. "Kid, please, go away-"

"-and you don't have to sit on the floor. We'll rotate. I don't let many people drive my baby, but if you want to you can, just be sure to treat Angie nice, she's prissy but trusty, I don't give her enough credit. If you really want, we can drive back down to Antonio's and pick up Matthew's truck. Probably should have done that when we were down there…but Lovino sure is scary when he wakes up. Then somebody can ride in the back. Ooohhh, I kinda want that spot. Except if it's raining. Then we'll make Arthur sit outside. Or Francis, just for kicks. I want to see what he'd do if his hair got wet. Lovino will always get a seat, though. He's not very strong, but anyone is capable of sticking a fork in someone's eye. I'll also definitely always get a seat, because it's my car and I'm the leader of Team Kick Axis Ass. Oh my gosh, we should come up with a catchphrase-"

He felt bile rise in his throat, and he clutched the railing tightly. "Alfred." The air thickened with the traveler's excitement, and he clenched his teeth against the acid coating the back of his throat. "Alfred, please-"

"-like Avenger's Assemble, you know. But something to do with us. Immortals Intervene! No, that's stupid. Especially since I don't know if I'm immortal or not. Counter's Come? But I'm not a Counter, either. To the Time Machine! Yes! The Fiesta will be the Time Machine. That's the baby's new name: the Time Machine. Aw, yisss. Its all coming together now. We'll get to the Axis in no time. They'll burn before our power. Run off with their tails between their legs. This is going to be great. I wonder where we'll go next? I know! Ice cream. We'll get ice cream to cele- Gilbert?"

The immortal retched, his knuckles white from grasping the rails so hard.

Alfred let out a hiss of disgust, turning his head away. "Jeez, a little warning next time. So no ice cream. I said if anybody upchucks, there will be no ice cream, and I don't go back on my word."

Gilbert choked and spat.

"Hey, not to tell you what to do, but maybe it'd be better if you weren't sitting on the edge of a bridge while ya getting sick. I think the sidewalk will be just as glad as the river to receive your gift."

 _"_ _Go. Away."_

"You want me to get the others? Hold on, I think Antonio put his number in somewhere…"

Gilbert coughed, trembling. _"_ _Alfred. Apples."_

"Apples? Are you all- Oh! Oh, sorry, sorry." He hurriedly scurried back. "Is this far enough- oh, hold on, Antonio's picking up. Hey, man! Where you at? Yeah, I found him. Good news, he's gonna join the team! Only he's sitting on the other side of the rail of the Purple People Bridge. Go get Arthur and Francis, Lovino's with you, right? Yeah, the Purple People Bridge. You want to talk with him? Okay." He turned his phone out. "Tell Antonio I'm not lying."

Gilbert shuddered. _"_ _Alfred. Not. Far. Enough."_

Alfred put his phone back to his ear "See? That was him. He's throwing up down here, and I don't know what to do-"

 _"_ _Go. Away."_

"- I'm afraid if I try to grab him he'll puke on me and I'll send us both off here. You wanna come down here? Purple People Bridge. You know where that's at, right? No, it's not the yellow one! It's the _Purple_ People- just hand it to Arthur!"

* * *

 **Thanks for everybody's review, follow, and favorite! We hit 20 followers, guys. TWENTY. FOOLLOWERS :D Thank you all so much for just giving this story a chance.**

 **Love y'all**

 **xx SonoSvegliato**


	18. Chapter 18

**Missed an update _again?_ Noooooooo**

 **Warning: Crappy chapter is crappy.**

 **Alert: Because crappy chapter is so crappy, I'm uploading double. Because of hopefully-readable mess.**

* * *

Bluegrass music drifted softly from Alfred's speakers, and he taped his fingers against the steering wheel in tune. He had to air conditioning on full blast, and so mumbled out the weaker pieces of Wagon Wheel on his own. Might as well occupy himself somehow, since it seemed no one else enjoyed the beauty of an early morning on the road. Well, maybe Gilbert was half awake. He occasionally heard small moans from where the Prussian was draped in the back. They had all taken their respective seats- Arthur in the front, Francis in the middle, Lovino to his right and Antonio on the far left. Gilbert was again forced to the floor- Alfred hoped that if he had to upchuck another meal, he'd have to good sense to do it out the window and not on the floor of the Time Machine.

They were headed up to Canada.

He'd packed as if they were going camping. Arthur wanted to be practical, and there wouldn't be much space for suitcases, anyway. Francis was not keen to this idea, but finally gave up with only bringing three alternate outfits, one hair comb, travel-sized bottles of hairspray, shampoo, and conditioner. Arthur had made him leave his nail filer.

Alfred himself had only brought another change of clothes, some his and Mattie's off-grid gear, and had picked up some cash and food that morning. A bag of Cheetos Puffs now sat on Arthur's lap, and a large McDonald's Sweet Tea had been wedged in the cup holder (definitely not Arthur's).

Last night had ended on a rather good note, considering how it had began. While Gilbert was reduced to puking his insides out in the downstairs bathroom, he and the others had sat at his kitchen table to draw out a plan. Arthur had wanted to fly- Alfred refused to abandon the Time Machine so quickly; plus, they'd need a car anyway once they were in Canada. Antonio had agreed, driving would prove to be less expensive. Francis suggested going back to Springfield, since that was where it had all started, but Arthur thought it useless, since that was the place had no real significance except for where they and Alfred had first met. It was Lovino who finally came up with a satisfying first step: go to the place where Counter had found traveler.

"Timepiece energy is going to be most concentrated there. Use it to see something, I don't know. Figure it out, idiots. This is a mess."

But Alfred didn't know where Matthew had found him. He didn't remember it. Luckily, Arthur had saved him- he'd first sensed Alfred's presence up north. So to Canada they would go. He and Matthew had lived up there for a while. They still were unsure of the exact location, but Arthur had assured him he'd be able to sense concentrated timepiece energy. He didn't know what that meant, labeling it as some other weird Counter sense, but hoped the Englishman would pull through. They needed Francis to be able to use clairvoyance without getting stuck. Plus, if the energy was strong enough, the Frenchie was supposed to be able to even _interact_ with Mattie.

Alfred wanted that bad. He'd be able to tell his Counter that it was all A-okay, that he was safe and that he was coming, and that the hero was going to save his damsel in distress. Matthew could tell them more details on what had happened to him and maybe even if he'd gotten any information on the Axis.

The traveler wished teleportation outside the use of a timepiece (which, of course, he currently didn't even have) was available. Arthur said he could do portals, such as the ones that had spat out Anotnio, Lovino, and Gilbert, but when Alfred had asked him to do the same in order to get them all to Canada, the Briton had went into this huge spiel on how portals would only summon people to him, so it was impossible to draw a summoning circle in Canada if he wasn't there to draw it. Alfred had understood approximately five percent of this.

 _"_ _Wo bin ich?"_ he heard Gilbert drawl from the back.

He paused in his half-assed karaoke. "Dude, keep the Time Machine at least ninety-five percent English."

Gilbert replied in a groan, but he managed to catch him mutter something like "pour the syrup."

"That's English, but it doesn't make sense. What?"

His eyes darted up to his mirror just in time to see Gilbert roll over with a long huff. He waited for some type of further response, but it appeared that he'd have to wait longer for some more coherent human interaction.

 _"_ _I'm gonna lay down my burden, down by the riverside…"_

He joined in. _"Down by the riverside, down by the riverside; I'm gonna lay down my burden, down by the riverside, down by the riverside…"_

* * *

Gilbert woke up a second time, and this time his English made perfect sense. He fumbled to roll down the windows and croaked, "Pull over."

So he did, even got out and opened up the door to allow the immortal to stumble out and hack up his intestines. He wanted to avoid having puke down the sides of his car.

"Mmm~? Are in Canada already?"

He leaned in to see Antonio yawn and scrub at his eyes.

"Nah. It's only been, like, two hours since we left Cincy. I only stopped because _somebody_ can't hold water down. Also, I figured you wouldn't want Gilbert leaning over you to throw up."

The Spaniard hummed in agreement, stretching out as much as he could in his seat. _"Muchas gracias, señor."_

"Yeah. So, hey, will you do me a favor? Do I smell bad?"

"Ehh? You want me to answer something like that? You've a funny aura, but it's not bothersome. Umm…" he took a few sniffs. "Like cinnamon. You smell like cinnamon."

"Badly, though?"

"I like cinnamon. Cinnamon churros dipped in chocolate. Cinnamon ice cream. _Repáplos_ with milk and cinnamon. Cinnamon is nice."

"So, I'm not choking or suffocating you or anything?"

"Noooo. Time travelers have nice, spicy scents. What do I smell like?"

Alfred ignored him. "So maybe Gilbert is just blaming an upset stomach on me?" The thought hurt. He didn't think he was that repulsive.

 _"_ _No sé. Buenos días,_ Gilberto," he called as the other immortal approached. "Why does the traveler sicken you?"

Gilbert met his eyes for a millisecond, grunted, and then moved past Alfred to curl up back on the floor. The traveler remembered to close the door gently before climbing back behind the wheel.

 _"_ _No entiendo._ I don't understand. The traveler doesn't make me sick. Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Yes, Tony. I just puked for ten minutes straight on purpose."

"Aww, that's mean! Alfred's nice, if you just forget about last night! But he didn't know much about Ludwig, so you can't hold it against him. If you really, really didn't want to come with us, then we would have left you alone! Acting sick isn't very friendly, amigo. You should stop."

Gilbert shuddered.

"I said stop! It's not polite or funny. Alfred's driving. Don't distract him."

He gagged and covered his mouth.

"Gilberto!"

Alfred had barely gone more than a few meters when he had to stop and let Gilbert out again.

* * *

For so many people squished into the car, the Time Machine was relatively quiet. The immortals weren't asleep- at least, not completely. A quick glance at his mirror revealed an Antonio twisted in his seat and playing Sweet and Sour with the cars behind him, a half-conscious Francis with earbuds in his ears, and a bored-looking Lovino with his chin in his hand as he watched the road blur by. Gilbert had rolled down one of the windows and now was much more comfortable with his head poking out of the side of the Time Machine. Alfred hated the choppy noise the wind made, but decided it was fair since the Prussian had been pushed to the floor.

Alfred took a side-glance at Arthur. He sat rod-straight in the front seat, squinting in the glaring sun with his lips pursed into a frown.

The traveler raised his voice to be heard as he turned up the radio. "Hey," he said to break the silence. "You all want to do some karaoke? _GIVE ME THE BEAT BOYS, AND FREE MY SOUL; I WANNA GET LOST IN THE ROCK AND ROLL AND DRIFT AW-"_

"Stop," Francis ordered. "I can't hear my music over yours."

"Oh. Sorry." He turned down the radio defeatedly. "Then is anybody up for the alphabet game?"

"There aren't many signs to use," Arthur remarked.

"I guess you're right. Um…anybody got any good stories?"

"Talking is too much effort," Lovino mumbled. "Wouldn't be able to hear over the wind."

Yeah, so the immortals were determined to be a bunch of glassy-eyes zombies. They were about as much use as they were when they were asleep. At least Gilbert seemed to have gotten ahold of his stomach, though he had refused lunch and Alfred worried about him falling from leaning too far out the window.

He sighed and chewed the inside of his cheek. Damn it, if no one else was gonna hold a convo with him, then he'd have to rely on himself. Angie's voice had gone sparse as they traveled long stretches, and was not a suitable conversation partner. He would talk to himself. He had gotten lots of practice when it was just him and Matt.

But by gosh he hated thinking. His brain was just so _negative._

 _Where's your timepiece, boy? Huh? Where is it? Go get it!_

 _No clue, bro._

He didn't even know where it was. The immortals could have buried it under his house for all he knew.

But they wouldn't have done something like that, would they? There could be a situation when he needed it. But if it was back at home, then he was doomed. No, they wouldn't have left something so precious back at the house. Somebody like the Axis could find it.

So the immortals probably had the locket watch on person. Leaving it would be too much risk.

Arthur had taken it in the first place; did he still have it? Or was it given to one of the others? Not Lovino. He'd think Lovino would have given it to him, and then they'd both be out of here. If Antonio had it, Lovino would probably know and tell him. And Gilbert…Gilbert didn't seem too interested in his well-being at all. Five hours ago he was still getting sick from being four feet away from him. Giving him the timepiece wouldn't be the most logical choice. Sure, he could still have it, but Alfred was _preeeetttyy_ sure he would start throwing up blood if he did.

Which left Arthur and Francis.

Arthur, being the one to take it in the first place and the one who seemed most infatuated with the situation, could easily have it.

But he could have easily given it to Francis to trick him. To make him think the Englishman still had it when it was really the Frenchie.

God, it was hard. He wished for Counter skills. He'd be able to sense where his timepiece was.

Arthur or Francis? Shit, what if they're ROTATING?

Maybe Lovino knew. He'd ask.

He leaned his head back with a huff. It'd turn out all right. It had to.

* * *

 **I warned you. On the bright side, I don't think anything else I've written is as uneventful and boring as this. But I APOLOGIZE. Especially since I haven't uploaded in a while.**

 ** _"_ _Wo bin ich?"- Where am I?_ (German probably)**

 **Do you guys need the Spanish ones? Watch Dora. As for repáplos whatever I wrote this like maybe two months ago and am a convincingly eighty percent sure it's a Spanish dessert.**

 **Story time with Sveg today guys well the story didn't happen today but whatever I had to do this project thing you know with Photoshop and the theme was freedom and a lot of people just put firefighters and american flags and stuff but I was like eh let's get interesting and so I put up a bunch of different flags from like Canada and Japan and England and of course the American flag and then I put up a bunch of international leaders like Winston Churchill and Sojourner Truth and Gandhi (I hope I spelled this right I APOLOGIZE TO THE PUBLIC MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES) and Mandela and then in a low opacity and in the corner I cut out APH America and that's it that's my story of how I was dangerous RAAR my world history teacher asked why my sisters are smiling in class LOL but I'm allooonneee and I may or may not have MOANED when this guy was like "yeah I'm German and Italian" and that's the story of how I didn't fail the quiz on dimensional analysis I have been up since 4:45 this morning.**

 **I'm going to look back on this one day or in the next few hours and kick myself.**

 **BUT TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY. DON'T LET ANYONE DULL YOUR SPARKLE OKAY KIDS?**


	19. Chapter 19

**Haha look guys I'm doing the updating thing again haha**

* * *

Ludwig was worried.

The feeling wasn't anything new, but it was still… _worrying._ He paced around in tight circles, eight steps around and two steps wide. The sun was in his eyes and it was so _hot_ he yearned to remove his jacket. He felt a bead of sweat drip from his temple and down the side of his face, and he considered going barefoot, just to let his feet breathe.

They were back in the Present Line, in some little city in the United States. Where the Counter Matthew and his traveler had previously resided.

And he was leaving indents in the grass of the pair's front lawn. Agent Honda and Agent Feliciano were inside having a look at what Jones had left behind. The Red Monkey, while able to locate the traveler, wanted them to scope out their living quarters for information. He had said it was unlikely for someone like Jones to go off by himself; that somehow he must have teamed up.

Which was interesting. Unheard of. Ultimately a pain.

So he, Honda, and Vargas had headed off. There was little difficulty finding the house and entering (despite his juvenile nature, Agent Vargas had his benefits. But Ludwig would never admit that he was jealous of the Italian's lock-picking skills). Upon just walking to the house, he made a note of an empty driveway and a single light on in the front of the house. Inside, he observed a sink full of dirty plates and, itching to clean them and run the dishwasher, found his superior correct in the fact that the traveler had come into contact with other human beings- most likely those familiar with the time community. The Red Monkey would be highly displeased.

However, none of the above stressed him. They'd locate the traveler easily, aid or no aid. Getting the job right might be a little more time consuming, but they were _immortals_ for goodness' sakes. While he preferred routine, time was nothing if it meant completing an assignment to the best of his ability.

No, what worried him was a lingering kind of _presence._ It had sent chills up his back, and he had resisted the temptation to keep looking over his shoulder. He felt like someone was watching him, waiting for him, following him…He drew himself up a little higher and squared his shoulders. He didn't believe in spirits.

But the presence was still there. When he went to check out the living room, his heart had leapt in his chest for no apparent reason. He couldn't figure it out. What on earth would make him feel this way? He didn't get sick, did he? Immortals didn't get sick…but he felt a bit like vomiting. He sent Kiku to check out the upstairs and Feliciano to check out the rest of the downstairs, and then had excused himself to "observe the surrounding area". He still felt a sort of pressure behind him even as he walked outside on the front porch. It didn't go away until he was well into the front yard, almost into the street.

He slid down against the trunk of the single large oak on the lawn. It wasn't right: he couldn't be scared. He was never afraid. He resisted being afraid.

But being inside that house had shed light on some dark corner of his mind.

 _"_ _I-I think I'm scared."_

 _"…_ _Resist it."_

A voice that made him put his head into his hands and rub his face. He boxed the memory away, unsure of what it was and where it had come from.

No, he shouldn't be like this. He showed about as much emotion as a rock for a reason: so his mind wouldn't wander into such useless thoughts. What good was a lingering sense to him? It was gone now, so he should box it away and think no more of it.

 _"_ _Ve,_ Luddy, are you alright?"

He lifted is head up to Agent Vargas and cleared his throat quickly. "Ah, yes. I was...inspecting the street."

"Oh."

He felt mild annoyance when Vargas plopped down next to him- they were so close their knees touched. With a frown, he shifted an inconspicuous few centimeters away. "Did you do a thorough search of the downstairs?"

He watched his fellow agent squirm and knew the answer before the other immortal even opened his mouth. His hesitation and discomfort told him all.

"Well…it looked…fine."

He sighed. "Fine is never fine, and good enough is never good enough. It's a simple question: did you or did you not do a thorough search of the downstairs; a job up to my standards?"

Agent Vargas hung his head. "No. _Mi dispiace."_

"Then why are you out here? Get back inside and complete your job."

Vargas rubbed his arm. "I- I- _Non posso."_

Over the past couple centuries spent with the Italian, he had grown familiar with these words. "You _can't?_ Then why don't you _explain?"_

"Please don't make me go back inside," Vargas blurted. "Please, oh please oh please oh please. I felt awful in there, as if I had eaten the whole pot of pasta with all of the sauce. This house is scary."

"Scary," he repeated.

Vargas must have thought he was incredulous, and hurriedly clarified. _"Sì._ I think there's ghosts in there. It's really strange. _Per favore, per favore,_ don't make me go back in! You're not doing anything! Let me stay with you!"

Ludwig was about to defend himself, but ended up shaking his head with a sigh. "Tell me what scared you." He already had an inkling, but one could never be too sure.

He watched Vargas shiver. "I don't know. I couldn't see it. I kept feeling it behind me, but whenever I looked it disappeared- the house must be haunted! I'm sure I have my rosary somewhere!" He dug through his pockets until Ludwig finally put a hand on his arm.

"That's enough, Agent Vargas. I don't believe there are any evil spirits inside the house."

The Italian put his chin on his knees. "I don't think they're nice, either. Are they what scared you?"

 _"_ _I-I think I'm scared."_

 _"…_ _Resist it."_

The voices, so much clearer now. The first one had to be a child's shaky voice, the other had to belong to someone older. A parent and his child, perhaps? An older brother and a younger one? But why would he be thinking of that?

"L-Luddy?"

He shook his head. "Ah, I don't get scared."

"But everybody is a little bit of a coward, even you!"

His face twisted from solemn into disbelieving. "Excuse me? Did you, an insubordinate, call me, your _leader,_ a _coward?"_

Vargas shrunk into himself. "N-n-n-no-oh-oh-oh."

"Then what did you say?"

"I-I-I s-s-said that ev-everybody's a-a little bit of a-a c-c-c-ow-w-w-ward."

"That wasn't it, Vargas!"

The other immortal hiccupped. "A-a-and th-th-then I s-s-said even y-y-you."

Ludwig got into his face. _"And when did you get that preposterous idea?"_

To his displeasure, the other agent burst into his signature messy tears. _"Non lo so!" I don't know!_

"Is that what you really think of me, Agent?" he snarled. "You think of me as a coward?"

"I-I-I did-did-didn't muh-muh-mean it that wuh-wuh-way. I w-w-was trying to m-m-make you f-f-feel buh-buh-better about being sc-scared, like you d-d-do for m-me. It's o-okay t-to be sc-scared, y-you know?"

"Who said I was scared?"

"Y-you did. _'I-I think I'm scared.'"_

He stiffened. "That was aloud?"

Vargas nodded, his bottom lip trembling.

"Well, I'm not scared of ghosts. I was merely recalling something."

"O-oh. Then why d-did you come out h-here?"

Ludwig gave him a withering look, but allowed him an answer. "You were not the only one to feel a presence while being inside the house. I felt as if someone was watching us, and so came out to investigate." Still untrue, but Vargas seemed to accept it.

"The feeling is g-gone, now."

"Hmm. Yes." He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, a wave of weariness suddenly coming over him.

"L-Ludwig?"

 _"_ _Ja?"_

"Should we tell Boss about this?"

He was silent. They probably should. Something might as well have been tailing them. It had never happened before, but that didn't mean it never could. There was also more than one witness, as well as bad feelings that came with it. Something was inexplicably not right.

But Ludwig couldn't put a finger on it. There should be some direct answer, but he could come up with none. It had never happened before, and so he didn't know how to deal with it. Yes, they should tell the Red Monkey about this, but…Ludwig did not want to disappoint him any further.

"No. We shouldn't bother him with something like this. We were imagining things."

Vargas shifted and replied in a small voice, "But I wasn't. It was real. The ghost was real."

Ludwig sighed.

"It was real."

"Ludwig, it was real."

"I felt it."

"I promise I'm not lying."

"Ludwig?"

The immortal took a deep breath. "We won't worry about it until it happens again."

Agent Vargas mulled this over, and then shook his head. "I'm s-sorry." He grabbed Ludwig's hand and squeezed his fingers. "I still don't like it."

For once, Ludwig did not pull away.

He didn't like it either. But there was nothing they could do about it.

Later, he asked Kiku if he had noticed anything strange upstairs. The third immortal shook his head- he had no eerie presence follow him inside the house.

They'd just tell their superior that they couldn't find anything of use. They'd have to have him locate the traveler again himself.

In the meantime, he'd try to forget the voices that left him awake and disturbed his peaceful routine.

* * *

 ** _Mi displace - I'm sorry_ (Sucky Italian. If wrong send complaint to the ****judgmental owl a.k.a. Duolingo)**

 **So I don't think chapter is bad as the last one? I was feeling the GerIta thing, but as any of you know (experienced?), I cannot write romantically. Like, nothing comes. Platonic stuff is my ability, which I think is fine we need platonic relationships in this world.**

 **SHOUTOUT TO IRELAND EYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOO**

 **SHOUTOUT TO THE ALE81 FACTORY YEEAAAAAHHHHH**

 **AND FINALLY A SHOUTOUT TO EVERYBODY BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME.**

 **xxCaffeinated Sveg**


	20. Chapter 20

**Guess who's updating kinda on time?**

 **Warning: Really bad jokes. Copyright Sveg's brain, 2016.**

 **Oh, and Lovino. I am so, so, sorry Lovino...**

* * *

Alfred pulled in to a Chick-Fil-A, choosing to ignore the collective groans that came with it.

"Are you serious?" Arthur moaned. _"More_ fast food?"

"What did you expect?" He'd been driving for hours, his sugar levels were low, so his temper was short. "We're on a road trip. I don't have the money to take you to a five star fancy restaurant."

"Do you ever eat anything remotely nutritional?"

"Fast-food places don't only have fried food," he snapped. "If you don't want the best goddamn chicken you'll ever have the fortune of putting in your mouth, then get something else. It's fried with peanut oil, it's not that bad. I'm not even getting fries- I'm getting a cookie parfait. Yogurt is healthy, and you can get that too if that's all you freaking want. But just know I'm not stopping, so either suck it up and eat the chicken and yogurt or go hungry. I'm paying, so it's not like I give a shit. Stop complaining."

This ended any further discussion, and the five immortals meekly got out of the car. Alfred slammed the door shut with a sigh. God, he needed a sweet tea like no tomorrow.

They headed for the bathroom first, which took a little longer than any of them would have liked. They weren't, after all, the only ones on a summer road trip. This also meant that the line to order wasn't as short as Alfred needed (it was still a fast-food place, why wasn't the food fast?) He tapped his foot and grumbled and told the others they'd have to say their own orders, there was no way he was going through the trouble of remembering five stinking orders of parfaits. When they were hungry an hour later, there was no way he was stopping. They'd either have to wait for dinner or finally gather up the courage to open up the Cheetos Puffs.

Despite his irritation, he was polite and smiling as ever to the cashier. Just like stopping for another meal, there was no way in _hell_ he would ever be rude to anybody involved with food. Waiters, cooks, cashiers, even those people who stocked the shelves of a grocery store- they gave people food, they deserved some respect.

He shoved the bag at Arthur and took a deep sip of his tea.

"Alfred?"

"Hmm?"

"Why doesn't someone else drive?"

"Yeah," Gilbert chimed. "You said I could take the wheel. Why don't you take the floor?"

"I promised that before you started puking your guts out. I'm not sitting on that floor until I get it disinfected." He unlocked his car and set his tea in the cup holder with a yawn. "Everybody in?" He heard the doors slam. "Alright, let's go."

"I don't think driving tired is very safe, timey."

"I won't drive through the night," he promised.

And he didn't.

In fact, it was still light when he stopped driving. He was waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself. His eyes roved over every blue sign that passed, searching for a place to stay.

Thankfully, Michigan had plenty of campsites.

"Oh, Lord," Arthur gasped. "What are you doing? Where are we going?"

"Please say supper," Francis moaned.

 _"_ _Por la amor de Dios,_ please say _sí."_

"No way am I sleeping in a tent with you. I'll die."

"You're kidding," Lovino groaned.

They rolled onto the gravel. Alfred wasn't kidding. He'd packed like he was camping…which meant he'd brought sleeping bags. Not enough or all of them, so they'd either have to share or spend more money on more.

"Camping is cheaper than some motel."

"No! No, it's not!"

"Motels have bedbugs. They're gross."

"The outside has mosquitos, dumbass! We're all going to get f*cking Lyme diease by being bit by ticks!"

"Don't worry, I'll buy bug spray," he reassured as he pulled in and parked at the Welcome Center. "Camping's fun. I'll buy firewood and hot dogs, and we'll roast wienies over a fire!"

Gilbert made a choking sound.

Nobody wanted to spend a nice night under the stars. Not even Matthew liked to go. Alfred would suggest it when they finally got the day off, or when an assignment was particularly long, but Matthew would spend the next twenty-four hours fidgeting and having to take a piss every few minutes. He'd start off alongside him, and then end up not sleeping a wink.

They might be on a dangerous journey, for goodness sakes. They were soldiers on a quest- when he got the chance to retell the whole story to Mattie, he had to make sure it was badass! Choking on his own timepiece would not help his case.

So he payed twenty-five dollars for a night in the Great Lakes Campgrounds, and there was nothing the others could do to change his mind.

The fire was weak. He kept adding more and more newspapers, trying to get some of the flames to catch onto the logs.

"Just leave it," he heard Gilbert behind him. "It's too hot out here for a fire."

Inside, Alfred agreed. Sweat was beading down his chest and the back of his shirt was plastered to his skin by damp spots. "Then how are we gonna be able to roast wienies?

"We could just skip supper itself." Arthur had settled himself on the trunk of the Time Machine, and now was engaged in a quiet fight with Francis for control of the canister of cinnamon almonds. They were the only snack deemed safe to eat.

"We've got to see each other somehow. I've only got one flashlight, and it's a crappy one on my keychain. Dammit, there it goes." He flicked the lighter. "Shit. Come on, ol' girl. You can do it. Don't fail me now. Nobody would happen to have PAM on them, would they?"

"Back home," Francis replied unhelpfully. "Don't make a fire. We don't need to burn this whole forest down. Let's find civilization and sleep there, _oui?"_

"I've already paid for a night in nature, and I'm not going to pay for a night of free WiFi and an indoor pool."

"So you're going to make us sleep on gravel."

"In a _sleeping bag."_

"What about the car? Can't some of us sleep in the car?" Antonio ripped into the bag of marshmallows and popped one in his mouth.

There was a second of thought. Arthur and Francis had paused in their fight over the almonds to look over at each other in silent competition before letting out their own respective war cries. Francis slid off for the left and Arthur jumped for the right. Alfred heard two car doors slam, two cries of anger, and then the sounds of muffled fighting.

Gilbert edged towards the Time Machine and laid a hand on the front door. "I mean, if we're picking spots, I should automatically get a seat. Since, you know, I've sat on the _floor_ for over _ten hours."_

"I suggested it! I get a seat!"

"No one," Lovino growled through his teeth, "gets a seat until I get one."

"Alright, _alright._ Nobody likes to go camping; I won't do this again. We can figure out where we're sleeping later. For now, does _anybody_ want to build this effing fire?" He threw a stick down and stepped on it, but it relieved little of his frustration. "I told Mattie we should join the Boy Scouts. I _told_ him. But nooo, I'm a _time traveler,_ so I don't need to know how to get a fire started without a lighter. Somebody else try before I try setting myself on fire."

"Then let's just go!" Francis called, his head poking from under the back window. "We'll be _dirty,_ and I won't go around with twigs in my h-" Arthur shot out a hand, catching him in the face.

"But dinner," Alfred mewed.

"We can get something else- preferably not made in laboratory," he heard Arthur remark. The Englishman then let out an angry gasp when Francis yanked on his tie, and so in turn pulled on the Frenchman's hair.

Alfred rubbed his face. "But you can't get the campfire experience. Let's get the camp fire experience. We'll be, like, heroes planning our journey in a fantastical land."

"I didn't think your brain could even come up with words like 'fantastical'."

"You've all been living for a while-"

He heard Lovino snort.

"- and so surely one of you knows how build a fire the old fashioned way?" He picked up two sticks and rubbed them furiously together. "Please?"

Antonio approached with a shrug. "Okay."

Alfred held out his two sticks, but the Spaniard passed over them, coming to a halt and studying the fire pit. Then, he took a few steps back and made picture frames with his fingers. The traveler gaped at him- what did he think he was doing? And he had thought he was the most idiotic.

"You might want to get out of the way."

He turned to Lovino, who gave him two raised eyebrows before returning to squishing a marshmallow between his fingers.

"He's not too good at aiming, so I suggest you move well out of the way. As much as I'd like for you to become a flying star, you're the driver and there's no way I'm going to take the wheel of the red monstrosity."

Alfred glanced back at Antonio. The immortal had his hands together and kept bending and unbending his arms to point at the pyramid of logs. His tongue stuck out of his mouth and his eyebrows were drawn in some deep concentration.

Gilbert cupped his hands around his mouth. "Yeah, Tony! Let's goooooo!"

Francis got out of the car, and Alfred heard the Briton's maniacal laugh of victory. Alfred watched the Frenchie clap. "You can do it, _Antoine!"_

Lovino added his own words of encouragement. "If you set this whole place on fire, I don't know you."

Antonio glanced at them all and smiled before thrusting his hands out towards the firepit.

Alfred watched with a sort of muted fascination the flames that enveloped the immortal and went shooting off in all directions.

Francis returned to the "safety" of the car, and Gilbert yelled a _"_ _Take cover!"_ before dashing off to a safer distance.

Alfred didn't move more than a step back. Even when a miniature fire ravaged the patch of grass near his feet.

 _Holy crap._

Antonio was on _fire._

Antonio was on freaking _fire._

His world just did not make sense, he realized, ducking as a stream of orange shot over his head.

What.

The.

Frickety.

Frick.

Frick.

In a blink of an eye, the fire faded into wisps of smoke.

Antonio put his hands on his hips. "Well, how did I do?"

"Fan-f*cking-tastic." Lovino clapped. "I've never seen such accuracy."

Alfred, on the other hand, had no words of praise, sarcastic or not. Instead, he sucked in a breath, turned his head away and hissed, "Oh my god, what happened to your clothes?"

* * *

After they had stamped out most of Antonio's remaining flames and embers, the six of them sat (with some level of discomfort) on the gravel, despite the immortals' immediate protests. Alfred had had no choice but to throw Antonio his extra change of clothes.

"So Counters have _different_ powers," the traveler realized. He turned his hotdog slowly over the fire.

"So you're the _king_ of idiots," Lovino mimicked. "Yes, dumbass."

"We've gone over this before, timey. My 'magic', Francis' clairvoyance. I remember it very clearly; we were out in the hall and I was telling you some of our skills-"

"Yeah, _skills,_ not powers."

Gilbert tossed a stick into the fire and watched it burn. "They are skills. To find and protect travelers."

He should have realized that sooner. Lovino had told him a Counter-traveler relationship was specific and individual, so why shouldn't their "skills"? He guessed he _was_ just a little clueless. "Right. Specific to travelers thing. I got it now. I was beginning to wonder why none of you were turning into any cool animals and stuff."

"Is that what Matieu did?"

"That's how he followed me around on assignments. He liked to be one of those scary geese. He must not be able to do that now…"

"No," Arthur agreed. "A Counter's skill is tied to his or her ownership of his or her own watch. I could put on Francis's, and he could put on mine, but neither of us would be successful in using our own or each other's skills."

Alfred pointed a stick at him. "Okay, so let's see if I've got this right. Your skill is magic."

"As I previously stated at most two minutes ago."

"But you can also prevent time travelers from using their timepieces."

"That is merely another branch of my skill. Prevention is not as hard as most would like to believe."

Hmm. Once he got his timepiece back, he'd have to be extra careful. No one could know but him and Lovino.

"And the sword-fighting stuff was all on your own."

"Yes."

Alfred swiveled his stick to Francis. "And you do the clairvoyance thing."

 _"_ _Oui."_

"And with that you can see into other directions and stuff."

"I can see outside the normal frame of mind," Francis corrected, "as well as the Present and Future Lines." So he'd have to be careful about that, too. If Francis Saw into the Future, then there might be some questions he wouldn't be able to answer. He was dangerous in a way Alfred had no immediate way to prevent, since he could use the clairvoyance right now and see him and Lovino heading for the Circle.

Next, he gestured to Antonio. "And you're the one who's gonna straight up disappoint Smoky the Bear."

Antonio pointed to the fire. "But I did it!"

"You did it, you did it, oh yeah.* But you also burned your _clothes_ straight off, so in my opinion whatever help you gave was cancelled out. Also, why the frick did you guys wait to tell me the guy has fire powers when I was _clearly_ about to rip my own hair out for kindling?"

"You saw what the idiot did. Who wants to risk burning a goddamn fiery death? Not me, _grazie,"_ Lovino spat into the fire.

"Which brings me to you. What do you do?"

The Italian lifted his eyes to look at him for a long second before returning to staring at the gravel with a smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know."

 _"_ _Please?"_

"No."

He looked to Antonio instead. "What does he do?"

"Don't you dare," Lovino hissed. "Silence, _uomo di pomodoro._ Silence."

"Come on, I paid for all your food," Alfred whined. "Remember the Chilito, Antonio? You liked that Chilito. You can't deny it."

Antonio squirmed. "He _did_ pay for all our food…"

"But my skill. Mine."

"I'm driving him around, so I should get to know."

"Open up your mouth and I swear I will shove my fist down your throat."

Antonio pursed his lips, his eyes darting between the two of them.

"When we leave tomorrow morning, we'll go where ever you want."

"The only thing you'll be wanting is a shot of morphine."

The Spaniard was obviously having a mental crisis.

"I will name my first born child Tony."

"Which will be in your memory. RIP Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

"I'm the one who's driving you everywhere. You owe me."

In response, Lovino locked eyes with Antonio and slid his fingers down the lone wisp of hair poking from the side of his head. *

"Gott, this is annoying," Gilbert finally interrupted. "Lovino makes friends with plants."

 _"_ _USERÒ LA TUA PELLE PER UN MAGLIONE."_

"Wait, so you guys are telling he has a _green thumb?"_

His question went unnoticed. Lovino launched himself at Gilbert with a high-pitched cry-

-only to skid, hissing and spitting, back onto the gravel.

"Oh, no! Lovi, are you okay? Do I need to kiss anything?"

"Shut up, bastard! Where'd he go? Where the f*cking hell did that goddamn walking Potato-Head go?"

Because Gilbert had disappeared.

Like, literally _disappeared._

Alfred put his hands atop his head and let out a whistle. One second, the albino immortal was contorted with fear. The next- gone! Where he stood was now empty air. Holy _shit._

Antonio cooed over Lovino's scuffed hands while the Italian struggled and cursed. "Let me go! _Che Dio ti colpirà!"_

Alfred heard a snort. _"_ _Ha._ Did the wittle Wovi scratch his wittle knees?"

 _"_ _Porterò questo ginocchio ai denti!"_

"So cute. Is Wovi mad?"

'Wovi' yanked on Antonio's hair, causing the Spaniard to yelp like a kicked puppy. _"_ _Tu vai desiderare morire!"_

"Is that Italian or blubbering? I can't tell the difference."

Okay, where the hell was Gilbert.

This, Alfred got an answer to when an invisible hand grabbed his jaw and squished his cheeks together.

 _"_ _HI! I'M ALFRED AND MY SKILLS ARE EATING AND BEING ANNOYING! HUUUUUUUUUUUUURRR."_

The hand released him, and he batted empty air. "What the hell!"

"Hold on, hold on, I have another good one. Knock knock."

"Who's there!"

"Banana."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Immortality must have failed. I'm dead and now I am in hell."

Alfred had done this joke to Matt too many times to fall for it.

"Come on, you gotta say 'banana who?'!"

 _"_ _Banana. Who."_

"Knock Knock."

" _Who's. There."_

"Banana!"

 _"_ _Banana. Who."_

"Knock knock!"

"Dammit, I know how the joke goes!"

"Then go along with it! Knock, _knock."_

 _"_ _Who. Is. There."_

"Orange!"

 _"_ _ORANGE. EFFING. WHO."_

Gilbert materialized behind him, spinning an unamused Alfred around. _"_ _Orange,_ as in _orange_ you glad to see me?!"

Alfred forced a smile. "Here, I've got one: knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Ina."

"Ina who?"

"Lovino's going to put you _ina_ hospital."

* * *

 *** Dora reference**

 **** This reference you either know or don't. If you don't, go to the Hetalia Wiki.**

 **I'm just going to translate my crappy Italian, okay? The only Spanish I did is "For the love of God", I think. Sooo**

 ** _"_ _USERÒ LA TUA PELLE PER UN MAGLIONE."_ \- "I WILL USE YOUR SKIN FOR A SWEATER." (Crappy Italian Number 1).**

 ** _Che Dio ti colpirà!- May God strike you!_ (Crappy Italian Number 2).**

 ** _"_ _Porterò questo ginocchio ai denti!" -"I will take this knee to your teeth!"_ (Crappy Italian Number 3).**

 ** _"_ _Tu vai desiderare morire!" - You are going to want to die!"_ (Crappy Italian Number 4).**

 **End-of-chapter-message: _GO DO YOUR STUFF DUDES YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME THE WORLD IS AWESOME YEEAAAAAHHHH. This is Chapter 20. THIS. IS. CHAPTER. 20._**

 **I won't finish this by October, so I don't know how updates will go in the future, but I want to finish this really, really bad. So- you know- I am. Sometime in the near future. I'm, like, 1/2- 3/4 of the way finished. I just completed the first cut-off this morning, where he story takes a sharp turn and there's a time skip, and I plan to only do two major time skips. So yeah! The story is (for the most part) planned out (in my head (but we see how my plans usually go)).**

 **See ya! Happy Autumn! :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**YEAH OCTOBER HALLOWEEN AUTUMN YEAH!**

 **So here's a little shorty mcshorty. Only did a quick once over, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.**

 **And once again, thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! They mean a lot :)**

* * *

It had been a good night. Sure, Gilbert didn't think so, as he nursed a wounded groin, but he was the exception. Lovino had been particularly gleeful when his knee connected with the other immortal's crotch, as he had promised to. When Alfred had asked what plant friends were, he shot him such a glare he shut up and didn't say anything more about it, not even when he caught a suspicious three-leaved plant sprouting out from under the gravel.

He ended up not allowing any of them the car. It would only be asking for another fight, and to be honest he'd never seen an enraged Frenchie and didn't care to see one now. He'd spent the extra dollars' worth of four more sleeping bags, and he was going to force everybody to use them. They were lucky he wasn't making them have to share.

The immortals had complained, but he was the one with the car keys. If they wanted the car, then they would have to break a window (and face death by the hands of a crazed American) or settle for sleeping on top of it. The sleeping bags had won out.

Though the day had been a hotter one, the night was cool. It was as dark as Alfred was ever going to get, and the air hummed with night sounds: the buzzing of bugs, the suspicious cracking of twigs, and the shifting of leaves. There was only the occasional breeze, if it existed at all. He had been at the wheel for most of the day, and finally settled down was bliss.

So he should have slept well, even though the only thing separating him from the ground was the snagging material of his sleeping bag.

He had his eyes closed, and his consciousness had long ago drifted with a late night prayer. If one wanted to get technical, he was asleep.

But he also dreamed, which wasn't so great.

* * *

 _He was under the Circle._

 _He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. There was no sign of_ anything. _It was like walking through an alternate dimension. He raised a hand to his face, to see if he still existed._

 _He apparently didn't._

 _The sense he was sure of was sight, which was pretty much useless with how plain everything was._

 _His mind tickled with static. He wasn't sure how he got here, where here was and why he was there, but some sleeping corner of his mind had a clue. Obeying it, he stepped- floated? Flew? Hovered?- forward. There was no sense of direction, no way of knowing if he was even moving, but the awakening static buzzing around in his head pulled him. It overcame the rational part of him, but he let it._

Matthew.

 _There he was. Hugging his knees but his back rigid and his head turned up._ Waiting for his knight in shining armor, _Alfred thought to himself. He came from behind and reached out for him._

 _Matthew jerked and surprised violet eyes met wide blue ones._

"Al-?"

"Matt?"

 _His Counter shook his head and then stared at him again._ "Alfred?"

"Yeah. You can see me? I can't even see myself! Hot damn this is one good dream."

"Alfred, Al-" _he felt Mattie's hands clutch his wrists_. "How- what- you're not supposed to be here. No, nevermind that, I mean you _can't_ here, _why_ are you here-"

 _His face contorted in confusion._ "I don't know. This just…happened. But look, let's get out of here. I can't stand this place; I can't believe you haven't gone insane."

"No, Alfred, Alfred-" _he kept repeating his name, as if it was some essential part of a spell._ "You've got to listen to me. You've got to get out of here. Don't let the immortals get to you."

"They already have."

 _Matthew hung his head and sucked in a breath._ "God, Alfred, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got myself into this mess. I'm sorry I left you again."

"It's…" _it wasn't fine, it wasn't okay._ "It's going to be alright. Arthur and Francis are good dudes. Antonio's a little clueless, but so am I, and Lovino acts all antisocial but he's the first one to agree to my plan. Gilbert managed to not puke in my car, which was really nice of him."

 _Matthew stared at him for a long moment before finally sputtering out, "What?"_

"The immortals I'm with. They're on our side. They lost their travelers to the Axis- those are the people who took you- and so they're helping me. They told me you were dead! Pff, I knew you were better than that!"

 _Matthew shook his head._ "Get away from them, Al. Don't worry about me. Just leave."

 _Okay, now he was getting frustrated. He tugged on his Counter's arm._ "What? Are you insane? What makes you think I'm going to just leave you here? What are you saying?"

"I'm saying to go away!"

"Why!"

"Because!" _his Counter snarled._ "They're going to come after you, too!"

"So? I can take care of myself, thank you very much!"

 _He lowered his voice._ "Do you trust me?"

Trust him! "Of course not!"

 _Matthew sighed._ "Then stop trying to come after me. It's too dangerous and not worth the effort."

"It's completely worth it! We're gonna save the world! From Holes!"

 _He watched Matt open his mouth, about to reply, but burst of laughing instead. An actual, true laugh. He'd seen his Counter laugh before, but it was always contained, not these loud uncontrollable guffaws. Tears streamed down his face and it took him several more breaths to compose himself. When he was done, he wiped under his eyes with a wide smile._ "Oh, ahaha. You found out about those?"

 _Every particle of Alfred's being stilled._ "You- you already knew about them? What we were doing?" _Arthur had said Matt might not have known, and he had clung to those words, because they meant that his Counter might finally know how it feels to be him. They could work it out together._

"Who doesn't know about the Holes?"

 _It hit him, and he took a step back._

"It's all part of the job. I told you about them, about the snags in time."

"But you didn't tell me what caused them! Or about this General guy! What was the harm in clueing me in? Huh? What was it!"

"It's all part of the job," _Matthew repeated._

 _Alfred continued to back away._ "M-matt?"

"I know about everything. Immortals- now those were a surprise, but not a very big one. Predictable. I definitely wasn't counting on falling off the Circle, but they do say the best way to learn is through experience."

"M-mattie?"

 _Matthew gave him a winning smile._ "Ah. I'm sorry, I've been rambling. Yes, Alfred?"

 _The static inside his head quieted, and he hugged himself._ "Come with me."

 _His Counter shook his head._ "No."

 _And Alfred returned to earth._

* * *

Matthew's smile dropped as soon as he was gone, and he put his head in his hands. Alfred hated him for sure, now. Alfred would leave him alone.

Yes. Alfred would be safe. He'd protected him.

 _It was all part of the job._

* * *

 **Heh...that happened.**

 **And also, apologies for anything I forget/leaveout. I tend to forget or omit parts of my plot. Please lemme know if you're like, 'what the frick just happened here?' or 'what the frick _didn't_ happen here?' PANTSER FOR LIFE DUDES. Don't know where I'm going, just know I'm goin' somewhere.**

 **Thanks y'all for readingggggg**

 **Byeeeee amigooosssss.**

 **xx Sveg**


	22. Chapter 22

**I didn't update last week...or the week before that...**

 ***Mushu voice* SHAME ON ME. SHAME ON MY FAMILY. SHAME ON MY COW.**

 **But yeah so sorry :( I've written hardly anything; a combination of lack of time and then sudden whims have bound me. Like, anybody ever heard of Phillips Exeter Academy? It's like this boarding school that we're learning about in English and I - well, I researched it...along with some other boarding/away from home schools...(please take me away)... and study abroad...and basically the opposite of now (boredom).**

 **NaNoWriMo 2016 is coming soon, everybody. Gear up because we're about to get crazy. I've been planning for it, so there's more loss of time to work on this story. I've put this in the end, too, but just know that November might be slow. And December. And January, depending on when I finish. But I will keep working *war face* I will finish this!**

 **xx Sveg**

 **P.S. If you go to a boarding school, have studied abroad, know Hindi, live in Latin America/Europe, speak Spanish, do NaNo, are Irish...**

 **You know who to call. *wink wink fail***

* * *

Alfred rolled over and pressed his fists to his eyes, shaking. "Oh my god, oh my god." A nightmare, a nightmare, it was nothing but a nightmare.

But Matthew, _god,_ that was Matthew. That was under the Circle. That was real, and he knew it, there was no denying it. He rubbed the sides of his face, focusing on his breathing and staring up the stars, forcing himself to calm down. It was over. He was back. It didn't matter anymore.

But there would be no chance of being able to go back to sleep, not with his adrenaline still pumping. He struggled up and out of his sleeping bag, stumbling over other sleeping bodies and making his way to his car. He wouldn't take a little night walk, either. He had had his fill of creepy experiences, and everybody knew dark forests were the favorite hangouts for murderers and vengeful ghosts.

He got out his keys and unlocked the car with a click, opening up the door to the driver's side, getting in, and then slamming it shut.

The immediate calmness of being surrounded by walls washed over him, and he set his head on the wheel. It was uncomfortable and it made his neck burn, but he was only going to rest there for a little while, just until his heart stopped threatening to escape his ribcage. Just until he thought about the experience for a little bit.

Matt didn't want to be saved.

Matt knew about Holes.

Mattie- his Counter- was g-

There was a loud rapping on his window. "I thought no one was allowed to sleep in the car."

He screamed bloody murder and slammed on the horn, causing the car to shriek.

Francis stepped away from the passenger-side window and made a "Stop!" gesture. _"Je suis désolé, mon chiot._ I did not mean to startle you."

Alfred fumbled to shut off the horn, and froze at the sound of a "What the f*ck was that?!"

"Nothing, nothing," Francis called. "This is a dream."

The traveler sat back with a groan, a hand clutching at his shirt. "Good god, man. Almost gave me a heart attack."

"Apologies," the Frenchman responded. "May I come in?"

Alfred nodded, and the immortal opened up the door and settled in besides him. Francis allowed a beat of silence to pass before speaking again.

"Is there a reason you're sitting in here?"

"No," Alfred answered too quickly.

The immortals eyebrows rose. "It's just for- what's the term- kicks?"

Alfred didn't answer.

"Are you alright? _"_ he pushed.

"I'm- I'm gonna be alright."

" _Going_ to be alright?"

"Yeah. I had a bad dream, that's all."

"Ah," Francis clucked. Alfred hoped he believed him. "I hate those. I'm usually naked in the middle of Paris. What was yours?"

He shrugged. "I forget."

"You've forgotten, yet you feel the need to take sanctuary inside of your car?"

Alfred turned away.

"Alfred."

"I said I was alright."

"No, you said you were going to be alright. What's the matter, _mon chiot?"_

"What's that even mean, anyway?" he mumbled.

Francis waved this away. "Nothing, nothing. Tell me about your nightmare."

"I'm not actually sure it was a nightmare."

"Then what was it?"

"I don't know. I think I was under the Circle. I saw-" he stopped, not willing to muster out his Counter's name.

Francis cocked his head. "Your Counter."

"How'd you figure that?"

"You can not forget that my skill is clairvoyance. I seems to me that you have merely had an experience with Seeing."

"But I don't have superpowers."

"It's not a superpower. Clairvoyance isn't the same as magic or bearing an element. I just happen to be highly skilled at consciously performing it. Did you speak to Mathieu?"

He shrugged.

"Come now."

"I thought I could save him."

"Oh. If the Seeing is strong enough, you can be able to physically touch your Counter."

"I did touch him. He grabbed my wrists."

Francis blinked, surprised.

"He grabbed my wrists and told me I should go away."

"Oh," the other man repeated.

"He doesn't want to be saved. He knows about the Holes. He laughed when I asked him about them. He knows about a lot of stuff, I think. He wasn't expecting to be captured, but he knows about the Axis. He doesn't want to be saved."

 _"_ _Mon lapin,"_ Francis whispered.

"Why do Counters keep everything to themselves? Why's that the rules? Why don't they break them? 'If a law is unjust, a man is not only right to disobey it, he is obligated to do so'*. Why does Mattie keep things from me?"

"The General," the Frenchman replied. "He is one thing. No one wishes to cross him. A Counter's goal is to locate his traveler, get to his traveler, and then teach his traveler. With everything so complicated, it's best to act simply."

"It doesn't make sense! No wonder so many travelers are killed- because we're a bunch of idiots! I don't _want_ to be an idiot, but everybody keeps things from me."

"What am I keeping from you?" Francis asked.

"My timepiece."

"We have reason. We don't want you to run off."

"I won't," the traveler half-promised. "I like you guys."

The Frenchman smiled. "Thank you. We like you, too. But alas, I believe this convinces neither of us."

"I'm safer with you guys. The Axis don't stand a chance."

"The Axis does what it wants. Should they come now, I can not promise you all will turn out well."

"So I should have my timepiece. To escape."

Francis sighed.

"You have it, don't you?" he guessed. "Please, Francis. Please."

"I don't know."

"It'll be better for all of us. I won't go anywhere. Matthew doesn't want to be saved. I mean, we're still going anyway, but I won't go clueless. I hate being clueless, remember? We'll get more information, and then we'll go. Together," he added.

"Alfred…"

"Please."

Francis closed his eyes. "We don't want you jumping."

"And I won't. At least, not until it's necessary. You can use your yearly jump, if you haven't already used it. I know. So it's not fair to leave me defenseless."

The immortal reached up around his neck and pulled down his collar, revealing a glinting silver chain. Alfred's eyes widened.

"You were wearing it."

Francis, for some reason, didn't meet his eyes. "You can't tell Arthur about this."

His puzzlement was washed away. "I won't, I won't. I promise."

Francis gave him a look, but held out the timepiece.

 _His_ timepiece.

He took it, holding it in his fist and bringing it to his lips. The metal was cold, but he swore it warmed to his touch. Maybe even buzzed.

"To ward off your bad dreams, _mon garçon."_

Alfred was only half aware of the door opening and closing gently, leaving him alone in the Time Machine. He traced the watch's cover, flipped it open and ran his thumb over its smooth, clear face, closed it in his fist to feel it tick.

It has only been a few days since he had last seen it. It felt like a few years.

He kissed it again. He felt like he should. Then he returned it to its place around his neck, a hand over his chest, feeling its ticking through the fabric of his shit and under his palm. He sat there for a moment, a sense of rightness coming over him, before finally getting out of the car.

Arthur woke to someone shaking him. "Wahh-?"

"Shh."

"Alfred? What do you want?" He got up on his elbows. "You can go to the bathroom by yourself."

"I want to ask my question. The one you have to answer."

"Are you kidding me?" He rolled over. "This can wait until morning."

"I'm asking it now," the boy replied.

He scowled, but didn't say anything.

"Are you still awake?"

"Yes, I am still awake!"

"Okay. Here goes: When are we going to start fixing Holes?"

He was silent, and then: "That's your question? That's the one I have to answer? You could have asked me anything in the world, and you're asking me that?"

"I want to know."

"So that's it: when are we going to start fixing Holes?"

"Yeah."

"I don't believe you'll like the answer: Whenever an opportunity arises." He rolled back over, done for the night.

"We should start now," he heard the timey say. "I want to fix Holes. I want to solve the problem."

"When the opportunity arises, timey. I won't say it again."

And though the boy couldn't see, Arthur smiled.

* * *

It was about lost travelers, evil immortals, dead watches, and a Counter that he feared didn't want him anymore.

Here was something Alfred might do right. He felt it right down in his soul. His timepiece ticked in agreement.

* * *

 ** _"Je suis désolé, mon chiot."-_ "I am sorry, my puppy." (French).**

 ** _mon garçon-_ my boy (French).**

 **There's probably more translations buuuuuut if you've read up to here, then you know me.**

 **So sorry about lack of updates :( I'm running out of my July material and I haven't had (or fail to make use of) time to write. Especially since I'm planning for my NaNo novel, which is the same story I do every year. I'm trying to get published- :D Maybe I'll upload it on Wattpad or something. It's been in the works for...for...2 years? Yeah. Since 2014.**

 **BUT GUYS. I GET _SYKED_ FOR NANO. SOMEONE DO IT WITH ME PUHLEASE! You can find me as PanEsBueno.**

 **Once November finally comes, I'll be done with XC but that time will be taken up by NaNo. I'll try to work in Timeless Mortalities, but progress might be slow 'cause I want to make sure it's up to standard.**

 **I'll just say it now, because who knows what'll happen next week:**

 **Happy Halloween! Watch for the clowns, y'all.**

 **xx SonoSvegliato**


	23. Chapter 23

"There have been interesting development."

The Powers stayed silent. Agents Beilschmidt and Honda stood stock still, but the Red Monkey noticed Agent Vargas trembling. He was also aware of how close he was standing to Beilschmidt.

"We get Jones now. Was anything found at house?"

"Nothing of use, sir," Agent Beilschimdt replied immediately. "Evidence of more than two people in the house."

"That is of use. But it make no difference. We get Jones anyway. He is currently on road, heading north."

"Where is he now, sir?"

"Still in United States. But aiming for Canada."

"Do we attack there, sir?"

The Red Monkey smirked. "Yes."

"Is there anything else you would like to disclose to us, sir?"

"When you find him, do what you must. I want him dead or alive. Should he have to be killed, he have to be killed." They've done it before and they'd do it again. He'd only let his Powers live because they amounted to no real danger.

He watched them leave.

He had killed other travelers because they posed a threat. Winter was funny that way. He made everything unequal and confusing- which was why the Red Monkey liked him so much.

He would like to see Jones before he killed him. But if that didn't happen, well, it meant little to him. He'd seen him once already, killed him once already.

But then Williams jumped, and Jones was back alive.

It was just so time-consuming, he thought with a smirk. It wasn't hard, it just wasted precious time. He'd get Jones, kill him, and then they'd move to the next traveler posed as a threat. Nothing to get stressed about. All travelers were shaped to be stupid. Why the General made them so escaped him. Why the General did anything escaped him.

The Red Monkey leaned back on the couch and swirled the air with his finger. A milky spiral bloomed and cleared.

Jones sat in his car, clutching something tight in his hand. His timepiece.

He couldn't help himself- he laughed. Did the immortals really think that would save him? Did the traveler really believe that a dinky thing such as _that_ would allow him to escape? He'd done this plenty of times before! How offensive. They thought the Axis was incapable.

Pfft.

He wiped the scene away with his thumb and replaced it with Agent Beilschmidt. "Beilschmidt. Another new development. I have reason to believe that Jones has been reinstated with watch."

"What plan would you like us to execute, sir?"

"The usual. Though-" he paused, closing his eyes. Behind their lids, a characteristic bright light flashed. His skin burned and his blood boiled and his bones melted, he felt the light piercing him like a spear.

He opened his eyes and straightened out his sleeves. He'd traveled to a forest.

Agents Beilschmidt and Honda seemed unsurprised of his sudden arrival, though Vargas shifted nervously.

"I decide to tag along," he announced. "The kill remain available to everybody."

* * *

A new obstacle dawned upon Alfred the next morning as they all piled back into the car.

"Does everybody have their passports?" he asked.

While there was a curt "yes" and a cheerful "oui", there were chimes of "Three words: Summoned. From. Spain", "A fake one!", and "Nein."

He sighed. "Well, shit. We're gonna do something illegal, but don't none of you go bitching about it." He swerved off the road and parked into the grass, against a line of skinny trees.

He made a rolling gesture with his hand. "Alright, everybody out. Better chances of gettin' to the other side walking." He dug out his carry-on bag and went around to the trunk in order to stuff it with whatever of use he could carry. "Come on, y'all. Out, out, out."

Antonio was the only one to get out and help, taking off his borrowed shirt and using it as a makeshift bag.

"You're acting like we're going to be there long," Arthur remarked warily, only halfway out of Alfred's car.

"Well, I don't know. Can you sense anything?"

He received a reluctant yes, and the unmistaken sound of Gilbert gagging as the pale immortal stumbled out of the car.

"Then no, I don't think we'll be there long, because we must be near. But I don't know how long clairvoyance takes."

"I don't plan on being stuck," Francis replied. "Not long. I'll just be doing a little bit of…scouting."

The traveler slung his bag over a shoulder. "Alright then, we're all good. _Vamános!"_

He had just barely taken two steps into the trees when he heard Antonio pipe up, "Uhhh…What about Gilberto?"

* * *

How he, Arthur Kirkland, got stuck with a large, demonic immortal was beyond him. He decided it best to ask.

"Why on earth am I the one doing this?"

"Antonio and I are carrying stuff," came Alfred's cheerful reply.

"The frog isn't!"

"I'm searching out a good spot for Seeing," the French imbecile said. "Which, might I remind you, is something you can't do."

"I thought _I_ was sensing the spot."

"That doesn't require energy. That requires focus."

"And I suppose clairvoyance doesn't work the same way."

"It's concentration. There's a difference."

There was absolutely not. Arthur grit his teeth. "Then what about Vargas?"

Lovino turned his head, growled, and then returned to staring straight ahead, which happened to be at the bare tanned back of a certain Spaniard.

The Briton considered dropping Gilbert and leaving. But he ended up just tightening his hold around the other immortal's wrists, grimacing at the way the Prussian's tongue hung out of his mouth.

"I don't understand it. I don't make anybody else sick! Antonio said I smell like cinnamon!" Alfred complained.

"More like you rolled around in fry grease."

"No, no. You smell like orange juice."

Alfred groaned. "So apples, cinnamon, grease, and orange juice. Wow, thanks."

Francis patted his shoulder. "Orange juice is not a bad thing to smell like. You could take it as a compliment, really. You can't say the same for Arthur's grease."

"We are dallying away from the real problem: the Pale Demon. Apples, rotten or not, are not half as repulsive as grease. So why Gilbert is so affected by a timey's presence is questionable."

"Maybe because he had a traveler before?"

"Lovi isn't affected."

"I spent centuries with only my brother. And you wanna know somethin'? I think my nose is still clogged with the scent of tomato sauce."

* * *

 **Yeah...slowly but surely running out of stuff to post...gotta write more!**

 **Especially since I lost all my recent work! Yay! Fantastic!**

 ***Crying***


	24. Chapter 24

**Duuudddeesss let's _do_ this.**

* * *

Francis came to a halt. "Stop. I think this is it."

As they had neared, the energy had grown. Arthur unwrinkled his nose to check, but quickly went back to breathing through his mouth. Yes, there was no doubt of the scent of grease. He gave Alfred a nod.

The traveler wanted to give him a smile. But all he could muster was a tiny nod. He wasn't feeling so hot at the moment. Like, if anyone asked, he'd be able to safely say he was alright. He wasn't sensing energy or anything unsettling. But he still didn't feel…great. His face felt hot and his brain warm, as if it was being cooked. He wasn't sweating, which he supposed was just as good as bad, but over the last half hour goosebumps prickled along his arms.

"Are you going to try clairvoyance now?" he asked, biting the inside of his lip to resist his teeth chattering. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with him. It was well above eighty degrees, and breeze or no breeze his teeth should not be chattering.

Francis closed his eyes in answer, and Alfred swore he felt the whole world still.

He rubbed at his chest. He wasn't able to seek comfort by directly grabbing his timepiece, and so had settled to feeling its smooth surface against his skin. He ran his fingers over its shape, again and again, as if it would dispel the sudden bout of _wrongness_ that had fallen upon him.

"Mathieu."

Matthew. Francis must see him. What was his Counter saying? Was he speaking at all? Would he remember Francis' name?

He blamed his nausea on anxiety, and sat down heavily at the wide base of a hickory. Arthur shot him a meaningful glare, narrowing his eyes and putting a finger to his lips. Alfred leaned his head back against the trunk, the rough bark catching onto his T-shirt and the ground hard beneath his butt. It didn't matter to him at the moment. He was so tired he'd fall asleep right then and now, in the midst of what was probably an important checkpoint on the Kick Axis Ass/Fix Hole Problem quest. He closed his eyes.

 _"_ _Alfred!"_

He jerked awake. "What? I wasn't sleeping!"

Francis sighed. "You undoubtedly are." He offered the traveler a hand and pulled him up.

"Aw, shit. Under the Circle again?"

"Yes," Matthew answered softly, though his eyes were burning. "I always make the stupidest mistakes. I expect you to know better than you do, so I'm rather foolish, aren't I?"

Francis took a step closer to him. "Now, Mathieu, Alfred isn't here by his own choice. He must have taken a quick nap."

"I'm right here," Alfred muttered. "And I'm not a kindergartener."

"Go away, Al."

He held out his hands. "Hey, man. What's your deal? I'm sorry I was such a bumbling idiot, but it wasn't exactly all my fault!"

"And I suppose most of the blame is to fall on me?" Matthew snapped. "If you're the idiot then I'm the ass, isn't that right? I'm sorry I'm responsible enough to carry out a job!"

Francis shuffled his feet. "Now, eh, let's calm down…"

Alfred stuck an accusing finger at his Counter. "We're gonna take down the Axis whether you like it or not. And I'm gonna help fix Holes."

"And destroy the time travel community?" Matthew clapped facetiously. "Oh, yeah. Great idea, Alfred. Much medal. Very hero."

"God _dammit_ Mattie! What the frick is wrong with you?"

 _"_ _Nothing!"_

"Then why don't you want out of here, huh?"

 _"_ _Mon chiot,_ this is clairvoyance. You aren't really here, your body is still back in Canada-"

 _"_ _Canada?"_ Matthew spat. _"Canada?"_

"We're trying to _help_ you!"

"And I told you to leave me alone!"

"But _why?_ That's the thing, Matt. You never give the answer as to _why."_

"Because I'm trying to help _you."_

Well then. That tripped him up. "Wait. What?"

"Do you honestly think I hate you that much? Alfred, how many times do I have to remind you that you're not the only one with a job? I've been assigned the lifelong mission of protecting you, but you can't possibly understand that, can you?"

His fists clenched. "I don't _need_ to be protected."

"And that's why you're hanging out with the enemy."

 _"_ _Immortals._ And they used to be Counters, too. Francis, show him your watch!"

The immortal let out a heavy sigh, but pulled up his sleeve to reveal his black and silver timepiece. Matthew stiffened.

Alfred 'hmph'ed smugly and crossed his arms, waiting for the rest of his Counter's reaction.

But it was not to be. Matt was not surprised, only interested. "So they've got the wristwatch, huh?"

Francis rubbed its face. "Ah, er, yes. We were all Counters at one point, but our travelers have either been killed or taken by the Axis, so we are not much more than immortals anymore, but this brings my visit to a point- if you would so kindly as tell us what you know, that'd be fantastic, _merci."_

"Time travelers."

"Sorry?"

"The Axis, as far as I can tell, are without Counters. Mere immortals, as you put it. But travelers can use their timepiece whenever they want, if they know how to use it."

"The Axis are time travelers," Francis repeated. He looked lost.

"There's this Red Monkey, too."

Alfred snorted. "Red Monkey? Wow, that's real frightening."

Matthew didn't look at him, opting instead to stare intently at Francis. "I have reason to believe he's their equivalent to the General."

It was at that point the static of Alfred's brain strengthened. He shook his head and stumbled back with an "oof!"

"You can't perform clairvoyance for long," Francis clucked. "It'd be best to go back now, before Arthur finds out you've been sleeping."

 _Afkzzkkzkzzzkkzkkkzkzkkkzalfredkxkxkzkzkkzkkzkzzkzk_

 _Kzzzzalfredkzkzkzkzzkzkz_

 _Kzalfredkz_

 _Alfred!_

Alfred rubbed the side of his head. "Alright, how do I get back?" He pretended not to care about Matthew's change in expression.

"Clairvoyance is the same as getting out of a bad dream. Pinch yourself, surprise yourself, do the _Wizard of Oz_ and clack your feet together and chant 'I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go-"

"Yeah, alright." He pinched the inside of his wrist, and looked to the immortal when nothing happened.

"Try surprising yourself."

"How's he supposed to surprise _himself?"_ Matthew responded for him.

"Did you click your heels three times?"

"I'm not gonna do the Dorothy. I don't get it- I got out fine last time!"

Francis rubbed the center of his forehead. "It appears to me that you're stuck."

He groaned. The static in his head grew louder. "How do I get unstuck?"

Matthew, without any prompting, threw a fist at his face. Alfred gasped in surprise, the pain taking a second to recognize, his nose pulsing and his jaw buzzing-

-and went up in silver.

His Counter shook out his hand, rubbing at his knuckles. "Jeez. For someone who's not really here, that sure did hurt."

Francis only hummed, pushing away the faint static growing inside his head.

* * *

 **WE'RE ABOUT TO HAVE SOME FUN Y'ALL**

 **HAPPY THANKSGIVING**

 **AND HAPPY WHATEVER DAY IT IS.**

 **xx YOUR FRIEND SVEG.**


	25. Chapter 25

**WARNING: SUPER BAD CHINESE ACCENT BECAUSE I'M TERRIBLE AT ACCENTS. And there's quite a few timeskips, but I don't think them horribly bothersome.**

 **THANK YOU FOR YOU ATTENTION.**

 **(over).**

* * *

Alfred came back to earth screaming like Lovino.

And then like a little girl because the world had utterly gone to complete shit.

First of all, hot _damn_ his face hurt. Like, really, really bad. He was ninety percent sure Matthew had broken his nose. Blood was streaming from his nostrils.

His second realization was that he was being _carried,_ and by a _stranger._ He wasn't even slung over a shoulder, which would have gave him some dignity- no, he was being carried like a _baby,_ like a _damsel in distress._

 _W.T.F._

Not to mention his captor didn't have a face. Nope, just a creepy white mask.

Oh, and fourthly: where the frick was everybody else?

As soon as he had come back to life, his captor's grip had stiffened- not tightened, just stiffened- in surprise. Alfred jammed his elbow into the stranger's middle and was dropped to the ground, landing hard on his arm and rolling away.

"Oh, no," the stranger clucked. Guy. Creepy guy. "How upsetting." He didn't sound that upset.

Alfred scrambled to his feet, heaving. Blood was still dripping down his nose, and must have looked like hell. He _felt_ like hell.

His captor was short, maybe a whole head shorter than him. Obviously strong, if he managed to carry Alfred while running, but not stocky. Thin and lean. Weird-ass clothes from, like, an era before Christ. Plain white porcelain mask.

When he made no move to speak, only to stare, Mr. Mask let out an audible sigh. "Come with me."

 _Come with-_ "Uh, what?" Except it came out more of a "uh, wa?". A streak of pain went down his jaw.

Despite this, Mr. Mask appeared to understand. "You don't want to be clueless any more. You want to come with me."

He didn't say anything.

"We are Axis."

 _No shit, Sherlock._

"I recruit travelers like you. Who do not have need of Counter."

He wiped at his nose with his arm. "Sohp i'." Stop it.

"I tell you anything you want. No questions. No General. You and me."

 _And you're so trustworthy._

Axis Dude put out his hand. "Come."

He shook his head. "No."

"Come."

"No."

"Come."

"No."

"Come."

He spread out his arms. "Obwiousee Engish i' _not_ your first lankuage." Obviously English is _not_ your first language.

The hand never lowered.

He didn't say anything else.

The Axis Mask sighed and let his arm drop, reaching up around his neck and producing a small pouch. He held it out in his hand, and Alfred took a step back.

"We are not evil, Jones."

"You kill travelers."

The immortal shrugged. "What other option do we have?"

"Leabe eberybubby alone." Leave everybody alone.

"I will not kill _you._ You will be of some use."

He didn't know whether to feel complimented or offended. Some mixture.

The stranger took a step forward, the pouch still in his palm. "Take this. No harm here. Present to show no harm."

He took a hesitant step forward and, in a quick, decisive move, darted forwards and snatched it.

"What is it?" He sniffed and swiped at his nose again. It had stopped bleeding, but still ached.

"Open."

It was cold and slightly heavy. He forced his finger through the small opening and drew out a silver and black watch.

"Williams' watch."

Matthew's watch. He flipped open the cover and stared at the scratchless face. The black hands were frozen in place.

"What is this? Some kind of 'sacrifice yourself to save him' thing?" He let the pouch drop to the ground, the watch tight in his fist.

The immortal shrugged. "If was that, I would not give to you. I ask you to think about us. Powerful. Leave Counter alone. You do not have to have Counter. Let him join others. They are fine."

"Who exactly _are_ you?"

Alfred couldn't see, but from under his mask the Red Monkey smiled. "You want name?"

"Yeah."

"I am your friend. My agents call me Red Monkey. You can call me Wang Yao."

Alfred only blinked, and the man disappeared in a swirl of smoky gold.

* * *

Alfred stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. He opened up his hand and stared at Matthew's watch. And stared some more.

He kind of felt like he was drowning. Like someone had just forced his head underwater, only he wasn't expecting it and all his breath was caught in his throat.

He wanted to sit down.

But he had to find the others, first. So he took shaky steps forward, hopefully in the direction Wang Yao came from.

"Guys?" he called. "Guys? Hello, anybody there?"

He couldn't be that far away, could he? He looked around. The trees all looked the same to him, especially in the orange evening light. He stopped for another few seconds in an effort to hear the highway. He wasn't able to scope out any sound.

"Guys?" he asked again, though a little smaller. He quickened his pace. "Hey!"

A lot of shit had just gone down within the last few minutes. Matthew had nearly punched his lights out, he had been carried by a stranger, given Matthew's watch and then told to think about joining the Axis.

But his throat was only tight now because he was finally alone. And he was never, ever alone.

He started running. "Hey! _Hey!_ Immortals Intervene! Counters Come! To the Time Machine!"

 _"Alfred!"_

There! Oh, thank God. "I'm here!" He went crashing through the trees, waving his arms frantically above his head. "I'm here!" He caught sight of Francis's bright red pants and sighed with relief. "I thought I was going to be lost-"

Francis collided with him, and Alfred's relief was washed away when he realized the immortal was shaking.

"Alfred, _mon chiot, mon chiot-"_ He took the traveler's face in his hands. "What happened? Oh, dear, look at your face. _Mon Dieu, mon dieu,_ I thought they had finally gotten you. They _did_ finally get to you, _mon chiot, mon chiot…"_ he trailed off into French, and Alfred ceased to understand.

He awkwardly patted Francis's back. "Uh. Yeah- no, I'm okay. I mean, where Matt punched me isn't to great-"

"Where Matieu hit you…" the immortal shook his head. "We'll figure that out later. Come on, come on, we have to go."

"What else did Matthew say? What's the matter now?"

Francis shook his head again. "Antonio. We have to help Antonio."

A deep chill ran through him. "Antonio? What happened? Is he okay?"

"Fine, fine. It's the other three. Gilbert, Lovino, Arthur-"

"Francis, you gotta tell me what happened."

"How should I know? I was under clairvoyance and only just got the run down from Antoine. They're in bad shape of mind. Bad shape of mind. Mattieu, I never expected what he said to be that meaningful- the travelers. The Axis agents are travelers."

"Yeah?"

"They weren't all _killed."_

It took him a second before he realized what Francis might be trying to say. "You mean the Axis are your guys's travelers?"

"Not mine. Not Antonio's. But Arthur- oh, my Arthur-" He took Alfred by the arm and began to drag him back. "Can't you run any faster, _mon chiot?"_

The traveler stumbled along. "What about Wang Yao?"

"Wang Yao?"

"Yeah. The creepy Red Monkey dude."

Francis shook his head. "Later, later, along with your poor face. Antoine! Antoine!"

 _"¡Y así ayudeme Díos!"_ they heard in response. _"¡Esto me asusta!"_

What Alfred saw wasn't what he was exactly expecting. Antonio had a flailing, screaming Gilbert under one arm and a limp Lovino under the other. Arthur was on his knees, his head touching the ground. Yeah, that was unsettling.

Francis finally let go of the traveler to crash in front of his long-time companion, his words lost to Alfred as they melted again from English to French. He saw him take Arthur into his arms, force his forehead from the dirt and his arms from his hair.

It was here when Alfred looked away. Somethings he didn't want to know. He went to the hassled Antonio instead.

"Uh…you want any help with that?"

It was the first time he'd ever seen Antonio give a withering look. "Take him." He sent Gilbert spinning into him, and before Alfred would even think about avoiding collision Gilbert was off and running.

 _"Catch him,"_ the Spanish immortal hissed. "There's a reason I didn't let him go."

Alfred huffed.

* * *

So he was chasing after Gilbert. A _gain._ He was in _obvious_ pain, but that apparently didn't matter to anybody. It felt like his brain was knocking against his skull.

"Gilbert! Jeez, man! Get back here!" He stumbled over roots and stones. "Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

He gradually got slower and slower, and the immortal got farther and farther away. Alfred sat down on his butt. If the guy didn't want to come, then he didn't want to come. He'd figure all this out later. Wang Yao, the Axis, the watch, Matthew, his face, Gilbert-

Yeah, later was good. Now was time for…

He turned on his side. He didn't think the ground had ever felt so welcoming.

…sleep.

* * *

Francis had never been more scared in his life.

He'd thought they'd lost Alfred, that the Axis had finally gotten to him and now he was gone.

Then it was Arthur. _His_ Arthur. The _rosbif_ was not supposed to lean into him. He was not supposed to be silent. It unnerved the other immortal to no end.

 _"Mierde,"_ he heard Antonio curse. _"Joder._ Were we supposed to expect this to happen? ¿ _Oye, Lovino, qué es esto?"_ He set the Italian up, running a finger under his jaw. _"Tú me asustas. Dime algo, no llores."_

 _"Noi siamo tutte assolutemente idiotas,"_ Lovino sniffed.

Antonio let out a shaky laugh. _"Sí, sí. Gracias a Dios."_

Hands tightened in Francis's shirt. "Where did the timey go?"

"Hmm?" Francis looked down, but Arthur refused to meet his eyes.

"Alfred. The Axis didn't get him."

"No, _mon cher,_ no. He's gone off to find Gilbert. He's alright."

The immortal stiffened. "Is he by himself?"

Antonio let out a huff of breath. "Huh. Uh, he's after Gilbert. So basically with somebody."

"Who's running from him." Arthur shook his head. "How long has he been gone?"

The Spaniard paled a little. _"No sé._ Thirty? Forty-five minutes? An hour? I'm sure he's fine; Gilbert can just run."

Arthur slipped through Francis' arms. "Which direction."

Francis pulled at him. "Now, now, mon cher, take it easy."

"I learned my traveler is still _alive;_ I didn't suffer some horrible injury. Let go of me- who knows where the Axis is right now? He can't just be left."

Antonio dragged Lovino to his feet. "I think it'd be best to leave Canada now."

"England."

They turned to Arthur. "What?"

"We're going to England next." He didn't even want to imagine what horrors were there, and so left it at that. Just thinking about _them_ set his teeth on edge. He thought he was done with the impossible but- nope! – the universe found pleasure in toying with him.

Alfred would hate to leave his car, he knew. But there were different matters at hand. The timey would have to deal.

His whole right arm throbbed, a heavy reminder that his timepiece still had the possibility of working. The pain ran from his fingertips to up and over his shoulder. He clenched and unclenched a fist, just to feel it.

So this is what is was to be alive.

Antonio had led them maybe a kilometer and a half, all of them yelling a mixture of Alfred and Gilbert's name, before they finally heard a reply.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm back." He had dirt on his face and bleeding knees, as if he had fallen. They didn't ask him if he was okay, and in turn Gilbert completely avoided any of their eyes.

"Where's Alfred?"

Gilbert blinked. "What d'ya mean? I didn't have him."

 _"Mierde."_ Antonio rubbed his forehead. _"Nosotros estamos en tan mierde profunda._ Alfred! _Ven!"_

It was a little more calling and crashing around in different directions before Arthur finally found him, curled up in the dirt like a pillbug.

Francis exhaled. _"Merci Dieu."_

Arthur smiled and got down on his knees, brushing the hair from the traveler's bruised face. The pain of an alive traveler was stifled, forgotten.

"Just look at you," he clucked. "A perfect mess."

The traveler half-opened his eyes, his pupils large and dark, his expression unfocused and confused. "Wha?"

Arthur held out his hand. "It's time to get up. We have to go."

Alfred rubbed a palm against his cheek. "I'm tired."

"Yes, Love. We all are."

"Matt hit me," he sniffled. "And then the bad guy dropped me."

"It's okay. We're leaving now."

Alfred thrust out his arms. "Carry me."

"Oh, no. You're much too big."

"Sssoft," Alfred slurred.

Arthur tugged his arm. "Come now. Let's not be difficult."

"Carry me," the traveler repeated.

"I'm not carrying you. You've got to get up. I have no plans of going camping ever again."

"You promised," Francis agreed, and Alfred got, swaying, to his feet.

* * *

 ** _"¡Y así ayudeme Díos!"_ they heard in response. _"¡Esto me asusta!"- "And so help me God!...This scares me!"_ (Spanish).**

 ** _"Mierde," .._. _"Joder._ Were we supposed to expect this to happen? ¿ _Oye, Lovino, qué es esto?"_... _"Tú me asustas. Dime algo, no llores."-_ "Shit...f*ck...Hey, Lovino, what is this?...You scare me. Give me something, don't cry." (Spanish).**

 ** _"Noi siamo tutte assolutemente idiotas."-_ "We are all absolutely idiots." (Italian).**

 ** _"Nosotros estamos en tan mierde profunda._ Alfred! _Ven!"-_ "We're in such deep shit now. _Alfred!_ Come!" (Spanish).**

 **The rest is just little stuff- if you don't know, use c** **ontext clues because I'm too lazy to translate 'shit' and 'my god' in Spanish and French anymore. ;)**

 **Are we 50,000 words in? Wow!**

 **Thanks to everybody's who's followed, favorited, or reviewed! :D Bye!**

 **xx Sveg**


	26. Chapter 26

**So I finally added the UK brothers. I was about to scratch it, but really wanted to put them in. Hopefully it worked out alright! :D Also thanks everybody for the reviews, favorites, and follows!**

* * *

 **AND THUS THE AUDIENCE UNDERGOES A TIMESKIP, THROUGH WHICH OUR RUGGED, BATTLE-HARDENED HEROES MUST ABANDON THE TIME MACHINE FOR A PLANE.**

 **BECAUSE THE UNITED KINGDOM AND STUFF.**

 **TRUST ME I'M A PROFESSIONAL- SVEG**

The house was indescribably old. Rotting blue shutters hung askew from rusting hinges. The windows could hardly qualify as windows, the glass was so scratched, yellowed, and clouded- though, only a single pane was broken, as if a passerby had decided that, yes, this bottom right window is just screaming to be vandalized.

The house's peeling paint might have once been white, but years upon years had stained it a disintegrating gray. The door was large and didn't appear to quite fit within the doorway. The house itself seemed to lean forwards, as if some eternal wind blew against it. The lawn was plain; no flowers or bushes or trees, just overgrown grass in dire need of being cut.

"Is this a haunted house?" Alfred asked, looking up at it. His face was still a large bruise, and ugly yellow purple. It hurt just to look at.

"Of course it is," Francis replied. "Not even vermin would deign to live here."

There was a bad taste in Arthur's mouth. His forehead felt feverishly hot, and goosebumps prickled along his arms as a cold English rain splashed his skin. He started for the steps, every rational part of him screaming at him, wondering what in the world he thought he was doing. "I can assure you that people do live here." And he knocked on the door, before he could change his mind.

An awkward enough time had passed before it was again suggested that no one lived here, and they should really be going.

Arthur grit his teeth and knocked again. "They live here."

Alfred came up beside him. "Well, it'd be nice to know who."

How could he muster to speak curses aloud? "It really wouldn't. And it seems as if my presence is being ignored."

"Then let's leave."

"Absolutely not. We're getting answers- aren't those your favorite?" He gave the door a combination of a kick and a shove, and while it did shift and creak, made no move as to allow them entrance inside.

 _"_ _Let me in!"_ he shouted at the broken window.

The door's peephole was slid back, and Alfred jumped.

"Password, please." From inside came a wail of _"Let him innnnnnn. It's deartháirrrr!"_

Arthur balled his fists. "Yes, Connor. Make Rhys let me in. I have company."

The peephole slid open once again. "Sorry, but we don't speak English. Come back another time."

 _"_ _Deartháir!_ Move, Rhys. Let him in."

"Why I even bother," came the mutter. "Only the password grants entry."

 _"_ _When Alistair gets home, he's going to beat you!"_

"When Alistair gets home, he's going to kiss me. Do you have the password or not, Arthur?"

"There's never been a password."

"Nope, not up until you decided to drag your ass back here. Oh, hoh! When Alistair gets home!"

"Rhys," Arthur snapped. "We can save the rivalry for later."

 _"_ _We can save the rivalry for later,"_ Rhys mimicked back. "The day you enter this house is the day I forget to put down the salt. This house has been evil-free for six days, gentlemen. Six. Days. I don't intend to break such a streak now."

"There were pixies this time," Connor suggested helpfully. "A whole swarm of them in the attic. Rhys is mad because he tried to drive them out with wasp spray and they stung him. You should have seen him three days ago, before the fever wore off! Alistair and I had to lock him in his room because he thought the chandelier was mocking him-"

"It never happened."

"-And then about three weeks ago some brownies burrowed into our electricity lines. And a week before that there were mermaids in the pond. And we haven't managed to catch the miniature dragons yet. They breed like rabbits."

Arthur closed his eyes and inhaled. By God he hated this. Time was slipping away. "I've brought company," he repeated. "Including a time traveler."

No one said anything to this, but the peephole slid open and Rhys' yellow eyes narrowed. "A timey."

Alfred leaned in. "Hi, I'm Alfred!"

The door was kicked open.

Two Counters stood in the doorway, one sporting blisters all down one side of his face and the other throwing his arms out.

 _"_ _Deartháir!"_ Connor cried, barreling into Arthur.

Rhys squinted at Alfred, and then tilted his head to see the rest of the group in the rental car.

"This better be good," was all he said about it, scraping the salt ring away with his foot.

* * *

"So this isn't _your_ traveler, you just picked it up."

Alfred pinched his nose. Jeez, this guy was even less fun than Arthur. "I'm literally _right_ here. As in sitting on _your_ couch. Right in the front of you."

Rhys screwed up his nose. "Yes, I'm trying not to think about that. The sofa is ruined."

Alfred made sure to sit extra heavily. Even leaned back. _Oh, think I smell? Here, lemme soak your couch._ "Too bad for you. I'm a timey and I'm in your house." He stuck out his tongue.

Rhys scowled. "After you've obviously gotten run over by what I must assume to be a donkey- you know, same species and all."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

The Counter frowned and turned to Arthur. "You've chosen quite peculiar company, Arthur. Four more Counters and an animal."

"Alfred's American," Arthur replied. "So you'll have to excuse him."

Alfred opened his mouth "Hey, you're-"

"The purpose of this visit is information. Give us what you all know, and we'll be off."

Connor pouted from where he sat (much too) close to Arthur. "You're not staying?"

"You'd be welcome to join me."

"Ey," Gilbert snapped. "But you gotta bring your own mode of transportation. I just got a seat and I don't see myself giving it up at any time in the near future."

"And you can't talk," Lovino added. "Or look like that."

 _"_ _Oui._ May I interest you in a paper bag? I've heard their very popular this season among the ugly-"

Rhys slammed his palm down on the coffee table. _"Shut up!_ Join you where?"

"Our quest!" Alfred exclaimed. "But only cool people are allowed so- sorry. You haven't received an invitation yet."

Rhys snorted. "A quest? This isn't the thirteenth century anymore."

"Will you just- be quiet, I want to be out of here just as much as you! Are you going to make this difficult or are we going to do this thing at all?" Arthur grumbled.

"The latter sounds delightful."

Arthur grit his teeth and ignored this. "Francis and I have been chasing after Alfred for quite a while-"

Rhys clucked. "Never thought you'd be so desperate for human company. I told you frogs don't make good pets."

Francis opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but Arthur stepped on his foot. "You well know why we were locating timeys. We met him once during the 1800's in America, while he was on an assignment, and again back in his 'Present'. The Axis has taken his Counter."

Rhys squinted. "Axis doesn't take Counters."

"They did this time."

"What would they want out of a Counter? We're practically useless without a traveler."

"The Axis offered him a traveler's timepiece," Francis replied.

Alfred looked away, his chin set firmly in his hand. He'd figured it out once he'd been told. Matthew really didn't want to be saved. Matthew wanted to be free. _Well, boo-hoo, Matt!_ He'd come for him anyway.

His hand trailed down his arm to his wrist, where his Counter's watch now resided. He had to give it to him. Even if Matthew didn't want to be his Counter, didn't want to see Alfred at all- he had to return it. Just…just in case.

Rhys looked interested. "They have extra timepieces?"

"No. It's most likely taken from the travelers they decide to kill."

"Then get to the point."

"The Axis decides who to kill."

The other Counter whistled and clapped. "Wow. Whoo hoo. Well done, figuring that out. What are you, an idjit?"

"Mathieu wasn't killed by the Axis. They want him for something, maybe it's to get to Alfred himself. But we were in Canada to figure out more when we found out. I had just performed clairvoyance and met with Alfred's Counter when Alfred actually appeared under the Circle with me."

Rhys's eyes slid to the traveler, and then back to Francis, who pursed his lips.

"And?" he ventured.

"And the part after that I don't know much about. Alfred can explain better than I can."

"And then Matt _punched me,"_ Alfred snarled.

"Good for him."

"It really hurt, too. Next thing I know this masked dude is carryin' me, and-"

"Rewind, Alfred," Arthur ordered. "Go back to when Matthew punched you."

"I had thought Alfred had merely performed his own clairvoyance unconsciously," Francis added. "You can sometimes interact with another environment if the seeing is strong enough- but Matieu's punch was only supposed to surprise him enough to get him unstuck. But it actually…connected. Which means Alfred was at the Circle."

"But I wasn't because the guy was carrying me-"

"-but you had to have had-"

"-I wasn't-"

"-but there's no other explanation-"

Rhys shook his head and interrupted them with a cluck. "There are no explanations when it comes to time. All of you should know that."

Alfred shot him a look. "But Wang-Wang was carrying me."

"Who the hell is Wang-Wang?"

"Axis," Gilbert supplied happily. "They decided to visit us."

"The Axis? When did this happen-"

"Same time," Arthur interjected. "Do you know who the Axis are, Rhys?"

Rhys squinted at Arthur. "Whattya mean?"

"Do you know what they're made of?"

"I assume carbon and some other organic stuff, most living things are-"

"They're timeys, Rhys."

Rhys stiffened.

"Timeys?" Connor repeated in disbelief.

"There were three with Yao Wang, their supposed leader. One of them was my own."

Rhys laughed. "Well shit, Art. You've gotten more coherently drunk in these past years, but you still don't make any sense."

"It's true," Gilbert snapped. "Ludwig was there-"

"Feliciano. Goddamn Feliciano-"

"-They were alive."

Rhys' lips curled over his teeth. "I don't get jokes."

"Good thing this isn't one."

"What is this, Arthur?"

Arthur rubbed his watch. "What have you done about the Axis, ever?"

"I don't give a single damn about the Axis-"

"Then what about the General?"

"I've forgotten about the General. Tell me what you're here for."

"Information, that's all. Anything you have."

He turned away. "I don't have any."

"You've never heard any more about missing travelers-"

"Why would I? It's all the same. They're _gone,_ Arthur."

"But they aren't; we just told you that some of them are alive."

A second of silent battle waged. Neither Counter blinked, but it was Rhys who finally resumed speaking. "And you're telling me you saw your Counter. The one you've never seen before."

"I don't believe there's any other."

"Fine. I can't say I fully believe everything, but fine. Timeys make up the Axis- doesn't quite make sense, but okay. Why are you getting up in the Axis' business?"

Alfred clapped his hands together. "Because we're going to fix the Holes."

He turned on him, head cocked. "You're a timey. You don't fix Holes."

"Well I am, and we're going to start a revolution."

"Funny word that is, 'revolution'. It can mean a war or a breakthrough. Neither one lasts for long."

"He wants to reform the time travel community," Arthur explained. "No war. You don't have any information to give us?"

"No. Get the timey off the couch before Alistair gets back."

"You can't be telling me you've shut yourselves up in this house all this time," Arthur sighed.

"I'm not. For instance, Alistair is absent."

 _"_ _Rhys."_

 _"_ _Arthur."_

"Nothing. Not one thing. We've told you this much, and you can't even-there's the possibility that - _nothing?"_

"If I tell you something, will you all leave?"

"Yes. I apologize if I didn't promise that before."

Rhys pointed to the front door. "Time travel family in Suffolk. They've got some unpronounceable surname. You know them- Berwald and Tino."

In the distance, they heard the rattle of a car.

Rhys tensed and jaggled his fingers at the door. "Out out out out out."

* * *

Alistair watched a rental car start on the curb in front of the house. He looked to the porch and found Connor sniffling and clinging to Rhys, and then turned back and attempted to make out the figures inside the car.

He made eye contact with the passenger, who's face visibly paled. Arms went waving wild and the car went lurching off. He sniffed, once. What smelled?

It got stronger going up through the yard, and damn near sickening on the porch. Like sewage.

"Alistair," Connor started. "You'll be so surprised! Arthur was here, and he brought a-"

Rhys clamped a hand over his mouth too late. While Connor never actually admitted to what Arthur brought, Alistair finally recognized the scent.

"Let's hope you didn't let it inside."

* * *

 ***Moose noises***

 **MEEERRRRRRR**


	27. Chapter 27

**FOREWARNING: I butchered Berwald's accent I apologize to Swedes everywhere.**

 **YAS! SUFIN FOR THE WIN YO!**

 **Also sorry for the lack of updates for, like, the past three weeks. But this chapter is kind of long so maybe it makes up for it? *hopeful smile***

 **Thanks for reviews, favorites, and follows! :D**

* * *

Tino Väinämöinen blinked at these strangers. He hadn't know Berwald to have friends! Oh, but the house wasn't clean. Peter had Legos all over the living room, and he himself was only mid-way through a dinner for three. Still, he plastered on a wide smile.

"Hello! May I help you?"

"Yeah, I think." Oh, an American! He smelled particularly like snow. "I'm Alfred."

"Are you Berwald's friends?"

"Ah- no."

Hm. Well now he was thoroughly confused. "Are you lost, then?"

"Uh…"

"Imbecile." A shorter man shoved his way in front. "Good evening, Mr. Väinämöinen. We're so sorry to disturb you. I'm Arthur Kirkland. Is your partner home?"

"Berwald gets home from work at six…do you need something?"

"Yes. Might we come in?"

"I…"

Mr. Kirkland pulled up his sleeve to reveal his wrist. "We're here for business."

* * *

"I'm so sorry about the mess." Tino bent over and began collecting Legos. "I wasn't expecting any company."

"Don't trouble yourself, it's perfectly alright. We apologize for arriving unannounced." The group stepped into the living room, where Tino invited them to sit. Lovino pushed Antonio to the arm of the couch, and Alfred plopped down on the floor and began connecting some of the toys.

"Are you all carrying a message from the General?" Tino asked gingerly. "I haven't received any messages in such a long while, I was beginning to worry."

"We're not with General Winter anymore."

He froze. "You're…not?"

"The Axis interfered, unfortunately. Which is why we're here."

Peter. He better get Peter. Was he in his room? "Berwald and I don't go to the Circle very much. We've been quite unattached from the community. What's happened?"

"We'll hold off on an explanation until your traveler returns home, if that's alright with you. It's a matter of extreme importance -"

 _"_ _Muuuummmm! You're burning the chicken again!"_

Peter came racing down the hall just as the oven began to beep. Tino got up to see him throw the oven door open, smoke pouring out of it. Above them, the fire alarm did its mating call.

The boy put his hands over his ears and shouted at it. "Shut _up,_ Bianca! I said _shut up!"_ He frantically waved the pantry door until its shrieking came to a stop.

Alfred was looking in from the doorway, watching something flash across Peter's chest. "Hey," he began. "Is that a timepiece?"

Peter whirled around, clutching the object with a hand, a smile wide across his face. "You didn't think it was a necklace!"

He was almost going to pull his own out, but then remembered that only Francis knew that he had it. "Of course," he said instead. "I'm a time traveler."

The latter end of his words rang in Tino's ears, and he turned around, his thumb rubbing the smooth face of his watch. That explained the stronger scent of snow.

Peter was flapping his arms in front of Alfred, his timepiece in his fist and waving it up and down. "You're a time traveler, too? Wow! Do you work a lot? Daddy's a traveler, too, but he doesn't go to the Circle very much. Mum never takes me to the Circle, either. He says I have to wait for my own Counter. Is having a Counter cool? Is traveling fun? I'm not allowed to travel _ever._ Uncle Mathias says traveling's the best. But Uncle Lucas won't let me travel with them, either. I asked Emil if he'd be my Counter but he said he couldn't because I wasn't his traveler. They're coming over, soon. They bring me presents. I hope they bring my Counter because I really want one really bad. But Mum says I have to be patient because it takes Counters a long time to find us. Did it take a while for your Counter to find you? I feel like I've been waiting for ever and ever and ever and ever -"

"Peter," Tino chided gently. "Remember your manners."

The boy continued jumping up and down, completely ignoring him. "What's the most dangerous mission you've been on? Could you go back in time and see whether the chicken or the egg was first? Is the future super cool? Mum and Dad never tell me what the future's like. Are there flying cars? What about superheroes? I wanna be a Transformer." He sucked in a big breath. "I've got it! The Time Traveler Transformer! I'll be the best traveler there ever was! Me and my Counter will be famous, and we'll both get a letter from the General congratulating us even though I'm not supposed to get letters from him and then he'll make us the strongest Counter-traveler pair ever and we'll beat the Axis up and save the world!"

Alfred laughed. "That sounds like a good plan."

"It is! The best one! Which one's your Counter?" He peered into the living room and pointed at Arthur. "I hope it's not him because he looks mean. I hope my Counter's not mean."

 _"_ _Peter,"_ Tino said again. _"Apologize!"_

He bent his head. "Sorry."

"Not to the floor."

He lifted his head and flicked his eyes to Arthur. "Sorry."

"For?" Tino prompted.

"For saying you looked mean."

Francis laughed and patted his frowning partner's arm. "You're quite alright, _voyager._ You're not wrong. You do look a little mean, don't you agree, Arthur?"

Arthur pushed him. "You're the one who called my smile 'terrifying'."

"It was. I couldn't let you go about baring your teeth like that."

Peter stepped further into the room. "Wow! There's a whole lot of you!" He tugged Alfred's arm. "Which one's your Counter? Do you think you guys can take me to your Circle? I gotta learn about it now to be the best."

"My Counter isn't here."

"He's not?" The young traveler's face dropped in disappointment.

"No. He's away."

"Is he coming? I thought Counters and travelers are always together. Daddy never leaves Mum. Are you sure he's not here?" He pointed his finger at Lovino and whispered in Alfred's ear. "I don't care if it's him, even though he looks grumpy."

"That's Lovino. He's a Counter, too."

"Oh. Well." He set his hands on Francis's knees and dipped his head at Arthur. "Are you guys a pair?"

"We're both Counters."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You guys sit like Mum and Daddy do." He turned his head and gestured at Antonio and Lovino. "Are you two a pair?"

"God, no."

"We're partners ~"

"No."

"Well…" Peter dragged out, running out of chances. "What about him?" He poked Gilbert's arm. "Is he sleeping?"

"That's Gilbert. He's a Counter, too."

"So they're all Counters, but none of them are yours?"

"None of them are mine," Alfred confirmed.

"Where are their travelers?"

He stiffened. "They're away, too."

"With your Counter?"

"Yep."

At that point, Tino returned from the kitchen. The room had gained a smoky haze, and the smell of burnt food tingled in Alfred's nose. "Peter, it's not polite to ask about the business of other Counters and travelers. I told you that."

"Sorry." Then he brightened. "But if you all are Counters, at least one of you wouldn't mind taking me to the Circle, would you?"

"They can't," Alfred answered for them. "Their Circles are undergoing- uh- renovations. They're super old and stuff."

Lovino gave him a withering look.

Peter jangled his timepiece in front of Alfred's nose. "You can teach me how to travel, can't you? Where's your timepiece?"

"It's being polished."

"Polished!"

"Yeah. It makes it- uh- super shiny."

"Really? Mum, I want my timepiece polished!"

Tino examined Alfred. "Mmm. No, getting a timepiece polished is very _very_ expensive. That's why you have to take good care of it. If it's dirty, give it to Daddy to clean."

Just then they heard the roar of a car. Peter raced to the window and threw back the curtains.

"Daddy!" He threw open the door and raced outside. Berwald was just getting out of the car but opened his arms and allowed for Peter to jump into them.

"Daddy, Daddy, do you get your timepiece polished? Will you polish mine?"

Berwald looked to Tino as he came in through the door. Tino just shrugged.

"We've company."

He looked to the group in his living room. Alfred shifted under his gaze, but nonetheless stepped forward to shake hands. "Hiya."

Berwald only grunted, setting Peter down and closing the door.

"Daddy, Alfred's a time traveler like you! Isn't that cool? And these guys are all Counters but none of them are Alfred's because his Counter is on vacation or something. Do you ever go on vacation? I didn't think you did. Did you gut a lot of fish today? Was there a shark? If you ever cut open a shark, will you bring its guts home? Please?"

"Peter, why don't you try making something for Uncle Mathias with Legoes?" Tino asked, handing him the clear bin. "In your room, please."

"Okay!" the boy exclaimed. He stopped mid-way out and looked back at Alfred. "You'll talk traveler with me later, right?"

"Sure."

He smiled and ran away.

Tino waited for the door to slam before swiveling his head to Arthur. "What were you saying about the Axis?"

His heart fluttered wildly in his chest. "Do you think they'll come after Peter? Berwald?"

"Tino?" Berwald added.

Arthur shook his head. "There's no pattern the attacks. We've just come from my -" He stopped and cleared his throat. "We've just come from some Counters' house, and told to come here."

Tino's eyes lit up. "Oh! You mean Alistair, don't you? Wow, it's been ages! We crossed paths centuries ago; I sent Berwald on an assignment on the coast." He tugged his partner's arm. "Don't you remember, Ber? The raids?"

"I think we're here for Peter," Arthur said.

Tino froze. "Pardon?"

"Information only," the Briton added quickly.

The other Counter let out a huffy laugh. "Oh," he said again. "Oh, of course. Information. What would you like to know?"

"How old is he?"

"Fifty next September."

"Fifty!" Alfred exclaimed.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows at him. "Why are you surprised? You're probably, like, what? Two fifty? Three hundred?"

"Two forty."

 _"_ _Francis!"_

"I didn't know that was still classified!"

Alfred put a hand to his forehead. "I'm _two hundred forty_ years old? I _am_ immortal!" He pointed at Arthur. "What was so wrong with me knowing that? I figured it out! HA!"

"Counters are immortal," Tino chimed. "Traveler's aren't."

"What! Don't tell me we just age really slow, don't tell me that -"

"Tr'v'l'r's d'nt ex'st 'n trav'l t'me l'nes."

Alfred turned to the other traveler. "'Cuse me?"

Francis put his face in his hands and laughed. Here was one of the last secrets they had been keeping, the one Arthur had taken so much care to hide, the one that caused the most confusion.

Gilbert leaned and whispered into Antonio's ear, "Don't you just love destruction?"

"Reminds me of the Indian Ocean trade," Antonio whispered back.

Alfred steadied himself on the couch and scoffed nervously at Berwald. "Of course traveler's exist on a timeline. Pfft. 'Don't exist on a timeline'. Impossible." He smiled at the others. "Right?"

"You haven't told him?" Tino asked with surprise. "How long have you been traveling together?"

 _"_ _Guys."_

"A while. We were attempting to stop him and his Counter when the Axis interfered. His timepiece is currently in our possession."

"How terrible."

"What'dya mean I don't exist on a timeline? Of course I exist on a timeline, we all have to be on one, how do you travel without a timeline?"

"You _exist_ on a line, timey."

"But-"

"Just not on the ones you know. You're a timeline yourself," he heard Arthur reply.

At least, that's what he think he said. Things got kind of fuzzy when he began to faint.

Lovino looked down at him with distaste. "Goddammit."

* * *

 **HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY WHOOP WHOOP**

 **FOR ALL MY FELLOW AOT PEEPS, APPARENTLY SEASON TWO COMES OUT IN APRIL 2017 I ONLY JUST SAW THE PROMOTIONAL VIDEO IK I'M LATE BUT I TURNED IT ON AND I KID YOU NOT I WAS SO HAPPY MY EYES GOT A LITTLE WATERY BUT THAT'S OKAY WE'RE ALL HERE FOR LEVI HEICHOU.**

 **Also let's go I just found hetalia episodes I haven't seen yet these anime websites WILL BOTH GIVE YOU A SICK COMPUTER AND IMMENSE JOY.**

 **2017 y'all let's go let's go let's go**


	28. Chapter 28

**Badaboom Badaboom Badabam.**

 **I own neither My Little Ponies nor Barbies/Bratz.**

 **Let that be a forewarning, I guess..XD**

 **Skywolf2001 and I made a story called "Holidays with Joseph". It's the countries in a holiday gift exchange, featuring Canada and Newfoundland. Let all the comedic elements ensue...**

 **Kornblumen-Krumen is something I just came out with because I can't seem to focus on the things I need to do like run and work and write but that's historical with Germany and Prussia and the Berlin Wall.**

 **As Prussia would state it:**

 **BE AWESOME.**

* * *

He came back a few minutes later when Antonio flicked a bit of fire under his nose - which made him both want to sneeze and scream. "No barbeque!"

Antonio was dejected. "That was a good flame. I had it nice." His face twisted in hurt.

Gilbert patted him on the shoulder. "Some people just don't appreciate not being consumed by a raging inferno."

Alfred scooted back against the couch and put a hand to his head. "Holy shit."

Tino bent down and extended a hand, concern sketched across his face. "Are you alright?"

He shifted, and then shook his head. When Francis moved to touch his arm, he jerked as if shocked.

"Alfred -"

"No." His voice sounded high and strangled. "Don't touch me."

"There's nothing to get so distraught about," Arthur started, but Alfred shook his head again.

"Don't say anything."

"Alfred, really, Matthew himself would have told you."

"But he didn't. You didn't."

 _"No debe ser importante,"_ Antonio tried, but Alfred just got up and left the living room. Of course! Of course they still held secrets, of course they hadn't trusted him. Of course.

But the Axis had promised him answers. His fingers trailed over Mattie's watch. He wouldn't put up with Counters. They didn't want him anyway…

He peered into a Lego-strewn room, where Peter sat king on the floor. At Alfred's entrance, the boy looked up and smiled.

"Are you going to teach me to travel?" he asked.

"I'm not good at traveling. Can I play, instead?"

"Grown-ups aren't supposed to play. That's what Uncle Lukas always tells Mathias."

"I'm not a good grown-up, either."

Peter's nose twitched. "Okay. How good are you with Legos? I don't let just anybody join my construction team." He pointed to his current project, a blue box with a picture of a plane. "I'm tryin' to build that."

"Are there instructions?"

"Nope! Men don't use directions. That's what Uncle Mathias tells Lukas when they're driving, and that's why they're always late."

Alfred got on his knees. "I guess Legos don't _really_ need directions…you just connect them."

Peter smacked his arm when he reached for one. "No! No touchies! I've got something better to play."

"What?"

The boy leaped for his toy box and pulled out a big plastic container. The grimy label taped to the lid read: _My Little Ponies._

"This is easier to play," Peter explained. "You can't mess ponies up."

Alfred picked one up by its sea-green and orange hair. "Uh. I guess not. What's in this one's mouth?"

"A raisin. It was hungry so I tried to feed it, but now its stuck."

Alfred let it drop. "Ah. Is it your favorite?"

"Honey-Rainbow-Sunshine the Third?" Peter laughed. "No!"

"Then which one?"

Peter pulled out a purple pony with straggly pink, shiny hair. The cutie mark on its haunch had been scratched off, and Alfred felt sorry for it. Its eyes screamed help. "This is Chocolate Ice Cream Sundae Explosion Terminator."

"I…see. You're very good at names?"

"Oh, I didn't name them. Uncle Emil does. He has tons more than this, and when Uncle Lukas gets cranky he makes him throw some of them out and give them to me. He makes me memorize all their names before he leaves again."

Alfred pulled another out. "This one's missing all its hair."

"That's Lemon Dapple Gumdrop. I accidentally put gum in her hair, and Mama had to cut it off." Peter grabbed it. "I'm playing with her. Pick someone else."

Alfred rummaged around. "This one?"

Peter snatched it. "That's Peach Cream The Siren!"

"The Siren?"

"Yeah! I take her in the bathtub!"

"What about-"

"NO! That's ButtJewel! Not that one, either! That's Princess Bath Blood! Starnose! Drunken Mathias! Shampooed to Perfection! D Is For Destruction! Not Meadow Field Monster Hooves!"

The boy now had a satisfactory collection of about ten ponies.

"Alright. What pony can I play?"

Peter tapped his chin. "Ummm…This one!"

"That's a Barbie."

"This is Brad."

"Brad's missing some of her clothes, isn't she?"

"I threw her dress down the toilet because I took it off and when I tried to put it back on it wouldn't fit and I bit her hand and Mama got mad. Brad has green feet and I colored her face."

"True artistry." He let his voice get high. _"How lovely you look today, Dame Skeleton of Dying Dreams!"_

Peter giggled. "No, no, no!"

"What'd I do wrong?"

"Brad is a bad guy."

"Why?"

"Because he poisons people." He took Brad from Alfred and violently crashed him against Not Musically Inclined. _"Bah, bah, bah! I hate ponies! I'm going to poison your hay until you die! Bah, bah, bah!"_

PonyTown went into disarray as the evil Brad wreaked havoc wherever she went. She poisoned pony after pony until the whole town writhed under her reign.

Alfred was more watching than playing, of course, as whenever he tried to jump in Peter furtively told him he was doing it wrong. So his legs were used as stables.

 _"Dinner!"_ he heard Tino call. Both he and Peter scrambled out the door – Alfred had never had competition in the race for food. He near slipped on the hardwood while Peter leaped to the side and slid by into the dining room.

"Dinner!" he said gleefully. "Hey, the girl man with fancy hair is sitting in my spot!"

* * *

Agent Bielschmidt was having one hell of a time with the Counter. A timepiece dangled from his hands, just above Williams' nose, but the Counter hadn't even flinched. Just stared at him. _Judgingly._

"I know you want this," he said lowly.

"No, really? I hadn't noticed."

"Take it."

"And the price?"

"Escape."

Williams snorted. "Escape, my ass. I'm just going to take it and travel into paradise?"

The timepiece jangled between Bielschmidt's fingers. "You'd be under the Red Monkey's watch."

"Getting a time travel piece only to be stalked forever. That's some type of paradox, I think."

 _Gott,_ what was with this Counter? He went to rub his face, but then thought better of it and took a step forward to Williams instead, the clutching the timepiece's chain tighter.

Matthew just stared at the traveler as if he was crazy. He had to be crazy. Did he really think he'd just _take_ it and be happy? He didn't even know if he could use it, though he supposed he might.

He instinctively went to look down at a watch that wasn't there. Man, he'd kill to change into one of those geese Alfred was so scared of. _Hiss, hiss, motherfuckers._

"You can't stay here forever," Bielschmidt remarked flatly.

Matthew gave him a raised eyebrow. "I didn't know I was planning to."

Okay, so Agent Bielschmidt was wondering whether using bubbly Agent Vargas as good cop might work better. But then he recalled that the Counter had attacked him on first meeting, and Agent Vargas harbored a partial fear of cats. He'd eat in the same room as one first before he would ever get two meters in front of Williams.

He turned around and stalked a few meters out of earshot before he let out an audible sigh. He'd have to report to the Red Monkey about this. He hated failing an assignment!

" _You've yet to let the big guy down."_

He closed his eyes. For the past few days, the same voice had rang around his head. It was terrible, because he knew that voice, he knew that voice and he knew it was from somewhere…

But whatever familiarity it held was blocked off to him.

There was a screaming, too.

He'd heard it from on his last mission, in the woods near the Canadian-American border. And somewhere else, too…

"You've got a Counter," Williams called from behind him.

He turned around. Williams was still sitting a few paces away from him. He walked back and tried to control the heartbeat that he was positive would reflect back as a tremor in his voice. "Excuse me?"

Matthew sensed a small victory. "All time travelers are assigned one. The Axis aren't special snowflakes. The General made pairs."

The only expression Agent Bielschmidt made to show he was listening was a small twitch of the cheek.

"Alfred's traveling with people," the Counter continues. "But I bet you already know that."

"That information is classified." How did he know? Had he let something split? It was impossible to try to shift through previous conversations. Had the Red Monkey come and told him?

"Yeah, well, my traveler's with some Counters. One of them decided to pay me a visit – don't look at me like that; I didn't plan it. He gave me some names…" He snapped his fingers, pretending to struggle to recall them. Then he put his hand down and gave Macho Blonde My-Diet-Is-200-Percent-Muscle-Milk his flashiest smile.

"What were the names?" the Axis member asked lowly. Ludwig told himself that he had only caved because he needed those names for his future report.

"You feel the tie," Matthew remarked instead. Success swelled inside him. "You usually wear your timepiece inside your coat."

"I fail to see how the visibility of my timepiece affects anything."

"It's too hot to wear against your skin anymore," Matthew replied, and he _knew_ he was right.

Agent Bielschmidt resisted the urge to look down at the locket watch resting near his breast pocket. "Names," he ordered instead.

"Francis Bonnefoy, Arthur Kirkland..."

Ludwig kept his face straight. He thought he'd saw the pair on their last mission. They'd been bothering the Red Monkey for more than five centuries (if he counted on the Present Line).

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo, Lovino Vargas…"

Vargas? Like Feli – Agent Vargas? He remembered the other Axis Member clinging to him, crying, making no sense at all even once they had returned to under the Circle.

"Gilbert Bielschmidt."

He blinked.

He blinked again.

A streak of gold struck across his vision, and he had to take a step back. He even brought his hands up to his eyes in an attempt to rub it out, but the color exploded like fireworks behind his eyes. His timepiece pulsed, hot, burning. He was dimly aware of what he was doing as he yanked it off, the chain imprinting his hand. The gold laughed. Colors were not supposed to laugh.

 _"Come on, Ludwig. Just five more minutes and then we can get to work."_

 _"What do you mean, 'no smoking in the house'? Who's the Counter here? It's not like it's ruining any of our lungs."_

 _"War's hard, Lud. No, it's alright. You – you stand back. No, you won't be failing the General. He'll hardly a clue! My report? What about my report? I'm late all the time for them, I'm sure the General expects this one to be late, too. I'll think of something. You're fine. Give me the gun now, I'll do it."_

The gold thrashed. His timepiece sent out steady beat, and black melted it away like it was snow.

 _"Ludwig, listen, don't ever go somewhere without me. I don't care if you're a grown man a foot taller than me; you're never to go away. Do you understand?"_

 _"I'm right here. Sheesh, don't worry so much. Ow! Well, if you don't want me to hold your hand, I'll put you on my shoulders and you'll be the Floating Boy."_

 _"Ehhh….Let's go away now. I – uh- don't feel like something's right…"_

 _"Luddy, damn – what did you do? No, shh, it's alright, I'll fix it…we may seem immortal, but we are far from invincible. Pfft, do you know how many times I almost got killed for the color of my hair? Here, now, don't move. I'll stitch you up and then we can go back home."_

And then, for only a millisecond, just a pinprick – a flowering of silver.

When it finally faded away, his timepiece is burning in his palm and ticking stronger than ever before.

"You see?" William started, but Agent Bielschmidt turned around.

* * *

"Red Monkey? Sir."

"What is report?"

"Williams knows about Jones' traveling party, sir. He has given me names."

"Don't bother me. I know name. Kirkland and Bonnefoy – _huàidàn!_ "

"I came to ask for another mission, sir."

"More mission? Agent Honda is having trouble; Agent Vargas is incapable -"

"A solo mission, sir. May I have one?"

"Bielschmidt, you are best one. Here, I have mission in mind."

* * *

 ** _No debe ser importante -_ It shouldn't be important (Spanish).**

 ** _huàidàn! -_ Egghead (Chinese? As English word?).**

 **Ha so StoryTime with Sveg:**

 **Once upon a time before Christmas Break I printed out this 2p Rome art that had him holding up a bleeding heart on his sword with the words "I HAVE BROUGHT YOU THE STILL BLEEDING HEART OF YOUR ENEMY" addressed to my World History teacher who can roast honestly better than anybody like this kid was sleeping and he totally roasted him and the class just lost it but anyway this card alright so I signed it "Chinggis Khan, Qin Shihuangdi, and Vlad the Impaler" and gave it to him and I gave it to him because I swear I'm like twelve years old on the inside and later that day he's like, "Sveg, I showed your card to people. Finally, somebody who understands me" and I was like, yas, I did it, I finally did a good and like yesterday I'm waiting around in the library and he comes in and I look over and he's holding the card but it's covered in lamination HE LAMINATED IT, GUYS. _LAMINATED 2P ROME AND I THINK HE'S GOING TO HANG IT IN HIS ROOM. I. GAVE. HIM. 2P HETALIA. FANART. AND. HE. LAMINATED. IT._**

 **What else...oh, I know, I went insane last night and my sister (REAL LIFE ARTHUR KIRKLAND AND KIKU HONDA. LIKE SRSLY. SHE'S THAT ANIME GIRL WHO ONLY STUDIES AND IS ALL PRIM AND PROPER AND I'M THE ONE THAT JUST LUMPS OVER THE DESK AND MOANS BECAUSE SHE'S DOING THINGS RIGHT AND I'M TRYING BUT IT'S HARD I LACK MOTIVATION but whatever you go people like me let's band together this is why Ed Elric, Romano, and Prussia are my heroes because we're all relatively short compared to our siblings it's highly agonizing) well she made male cookies and I just want to say that I'm not big on maple syrup idk its weird I put powdered sugar on my pancakes instead though I do prefer waffles SORRY CANADA I LOVE YOU I KNOW YOUR ANTHEM AND I WANT TO LIVE IN NEWFOUNDLAND but anyway these cookies doh they the bomb highly suggest we didn't have any milk but that was okay we had to improvise but they are so good and so thanks canada for your maple syrup unfortunately we had to mix it with the crappy American straight cornsyrup and sugar stuff and contaminated it but hey the cookies are good and so thanks so much canada you the best**

 **If you didn't read it above, you all should totally check out this story skywolf2001 and I did called "Holidays with Joseph". It's the countries at a Three Kings Day gift exchange, and because Canada knows the disaster that is sure to ensue, he brings along the province Newfoundland and anyway it's super funny at least we think so but should definitely be checked out I mean countries receive some pretty interesting stuff, especially when they're all drunk I mean of course Sealand has to infiltrate the scene and long story short there's a holiday dinosaur and a demonic clown.**

 **Kornblumen-Krumen is another story I just came out with (I KNOW I'M SORRY I COULDN'T HELP IT) but any way it's just me trying my hand at historical fiction. It's about the Berlin Wall.**

 **BYE Y'ALL. DON'T LET THEM HATERS GET YOU DOWN. BE FABULOUS ALL THE TIME. USE ALL CAPS AND DON'T THINK TWICE ABOUT IT. BE EXCITED ABOUT EVERYTHING. LOVE YOU GUYS YOU THE BEST THANKS FOR READING HERE WAIT LET'S DO IT HAPPY STYLE _THANKS FOR WATCHING AYE SIR_**

 **Yours truly -**

 **xxSonoSvegliato**


	29. Chapter 29

**Once upon a time I updated within a week I think.**

 **So I figure I'll do alternating. You know. TM one week and then Kornblumen-Krumen the other.**

 **"BE YOURSELF, EVERYONE ELSE IS ALREADY TAKEN" - OSCAR WILDE**

 **"QUOTATION IS A SERVICEABLE SUBSTITUTE FOR WIT" - ALSO OSCAR WILDE**

 **I love you Ireland, thank you for Oscar Wilde 3 I honestly am a weirdo. THAT'S OKAY! Honestly though if you're bored look up author quotes particularly Oscar Wilde's, they are AMAZING.**

 **Thanks for all the follows and favorites - you guys are amazing, too :D**

 **Anyway...How are you all?**

* * *

"Eat your potatoes, Peter," Tino urged.

The boy swung his legs under the table and shook his head. "I don't like potatoes."

"You like chips, don't you?"

"Yeah…"

"Chips are potatoes."

Peter stabbed a small golden potato with his fork and held it up. "It doesn't look like a chip to me." Oil dripped down his wrist and onto his plate. He licked his arm and made a face.

"Do you want me to slice it?"

"Yeah!"

Tino's nose twitched as he got up and took Peter's fork from his hands. Supper had been a strained event so far. Alfred sat picking at his plate next to Peter, while Arthur glared and Francis looked up every once in a while. Lovino had dumped all his potatoes on Gilbert's plate, which the latter ate obliviously. Antonio just enjoyed letting little flames spark on his fingers and burn his food.

"Peter," Arthur finally said.

"Yeh?" answered the boy around a mouthful of chicken.

"How did you meet Tino and Berwald?"

Tino swallowed and set down his fork. Berwald looked at him expectantly.

Peter's face just lit up. "Mum found me a really long time ago, like, before there was even any real color telly and I was really little but I had the timepiece I guess and he sensed me and he took me home and Daddy was so happy he cried that's how you know Daddy's happy because his eyes kind of crinkle up like this but he doesn't smile I tried doing it once but it was really hard Daddy is really good at it but they took me home and we live here and it's really nice we're waiting for my Counter and Daddy works at a butcher's and sometimes he brings me back cool things he found in fish bellies once there was a squid and Mum brought me in and it's eye was _huge_ like bigger than my head huge and Mum doesn't work he stays home with me and sometimes we make butter cookies and sit on the heater Mum says it's our own personal sauna even though we can't afford one but it's nice it turns off a lot of the time but hot air comes out and it burns my feet but Mum is superhuman and could sit on it for hours and when my uncles came over Uncle Mathias nearly dropped me and Mum yelled at him and Uncle Lukas had to yank on Uncle Mathias' tie and Uncle Emil brought me my first pony even though I couldn't say her name yet but now I have lots of ponies and I know all their names and now we're here at the table." The boy beamed.

"Uh- ah," Arthur responded, clearing his throat. "That was…informative."

"He means 'thank you'," Francis added.

"Your welcome!" Peter slid out of his chair and went to go back into the living room. Tino stopped him.

"Peter?"

The boy halted, midstep. "Yesssss?"

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my room…Alfred and I were having a really good game."

"Did you ask if you could be excused?"

"Can I be excused?"

"Three more bites of chicken."

Peter groaned, clambering back up into his chair and giving Tino the evil eye, stabbing a piece of chicken and shuffling it around his plate. "There. Done!"

"Finished," Tino corrected. "And all you did was move your food around. Do you want me to make it four b-"

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Peter dashed from the room with an "I'll get it!"

Berwald got up to go after him.

 _"_ _Uncle Emil!"_ they heard the boy shout gleefully. "You're early! Did you bring me any more ponies? I – Uncle Emil? D-daddy, Uncle Emil is getting sick in the r-rosebushes…"

Tino went white, and all of them got up from the table. Alfred was faster, leaping to see into the front entrance. Berwald stood in front of it, and Alfred went to his toes to see over his shoulder. He saw the top of Peter's head, the little traveler frozen on the front porch step. A few feet away, in the garden, a teenager was bent over hurling on the roses, hand braced against the side of the house.

Behind Alfred, Berwald took Peter by the shoulders and steered him away, taking them both into the living room. Alfred squeezed through the doorway just as Tino came crashing out.

 _"_ _Emil!"_ His hands went up, hesitant, before being set down on the boy's back. "Where's Lukas and Mathias? What's happened?"

There was a strangled cough of an answer, nothing Alfred understood. _"Tími ferðamenn."_

"What's the matter?" Antonio asked from inside the house. Arthur was struggling to see, Francis jostling him.

Tino tried to tear Emil away, but the boy swung out an arm, a trembling finger pointed at Alfred. _"Get him out!"_

Alfred blinked. "Me?"

Gilbert yanked him by the back of his shirt. "Fucking hell. You're making him sick."

"What? Why? Hey – let go – I was gonna help –" he was dragged back into the living room and slung down at the hall entrance.

"Stay there," Gilbert ordered before disappearing. It was the most serious Alfred had seen him in a while.

He backed up into the hall, wondering how much the Counter actually meant the order, but heard a muffled sob from Peter's room. The door was slightly ajar, and he peeked inside.

Berwald had Peter on the bed, the boy's legs hanging over the mattress. He clutched a generous amount of My Little Ponies in his arms and was kissing all their noses, tears and snot streaming down his face.

"Onkel 's s'ck," Berwald was trying to explain.

"He was crying," Peter sniffled. "Why was he crying? Why aren't Uncle Mathias and Uncle Lukas with him? Did something bad happen?"

"M'ybe. We don't kn'w."

A terrible feeling settled in Alfred's stomach. His hand went to his chest, feeling the steady ticking coming from under his shirt.

He drew back and sneaked towards the front of the wall again, careful to avoid the light dangling above his head, and studied the scene in the living room.

Gilbert and Tino where helping a shaky teen to the couch. The boy had legs of jelly.

Alfred had to flatten himself up against the wall as Lovino came by, leaning on the wall. One of his elbows was only a few inches from him.

"Emil," Tino repeated over and over. "Emil, what's happened? Oh, no, his eyes are rolling up in his head – Emil – stay with us, please, you've already frightened Peter –"

Francis swore. _"Bordel de merde –_ Arthur, his watch."

The terrible feeling in Alfred's stomach grew. Reached up from his gut into his chest, its pale fingers tight on his throat.

Tino let out a horrible cry. _"The Axis? The Axis?"_

"It's the only possibility," Arthur confirmed.

Gilbert threw a glass at the wall. _"Fucking hell!_ What do they want from us? What did we ever do to them?"

Emil murmured something, and the room hushed.

"Emil?"

 _"_ _He killed him,"_ Emil gasped.

"Maybe not," Antonio supplied hopefully. "There's a lot more out there than we know –"

"I was three meters away. One more step, and I could have reached him. It was the nineteenth century line, Hong Kong – I was so close –" There was strangled sound. "It was a bullet, right to the head –" Another heavy gasp, and then nothing more.

The room dropped twenty degrees as Tino let out an agonized wail. "What did they want with him? Why didn't the General intervene? They'll get Peter next. They'll come for Peter and try to kill him, too. I don't- I don't –"

Some irrational, insane, absolutely idiotic part of Alfred's mind took the reins, yelled "Fuck it all the hell!", and drove the car right off the cliff. The terrible feeling inside him disappeared under the banging of his heart in his chest.

The first battle cry he could think of – _"SIE SIND DAS ESSEN UND WIR SIND DIE JÄGER!"_ in an awful German accent- ripped out of his throat. His timepiece slid on its chain. The world erupted in streaks of silver.

Arthur was going to kill him.

* * *

 ** _Tími ferðamenn:_ time travelers (Icelandic WOAH I WANNA LEARN ICELANDIC LOOK HOW COOL IT LOOKS.)**

 **Okay so I was feeling real AOT when I wrote this alright. So don't mind the reference, lol.**

 **Ha who thinks shit just hit the fan**

 **lolololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololololol**

 **"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months." -Oscar Wilde**


	30. Chapter 30

**I just discovered Voltron and I just finished it and someone help me I am in need of the fanbulance PIDGE is the best honestly and Keith oh Keith you have so many issues you are a bby and LANCE LANCE YOU ARE SPACE SOKKA and hunk is just well he's something special and Shiro dear Shiro you are space daddy lion claps for you.**

 **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHERE IS SEASON THREE, NETFLIX? WHERE. IS. SEASON. THREE.**

 **Anyways, hope this this chapter is somewhat up to par. Happy February, everybody. When a fire alarm goes off scream "FORM VOLTRON!"**

* * *

He couldn't remember the last time he'd traveled. It had to have been around when this whole mess had started, maybe even before Matthew was taken.

Traveling now?

Exhilarating. There was the split second his feet touched down at the Circle, and then again rushed down time period after time period. It was hard to focus on his destination – what had Emil said? Hong Kong? He'd never been to Hong Kong before. He tried to pin down the Counter instead, struggling to keep the image in his head steady. Man. It'd been a hell of while - Mattie would have looked all disappointed - like, like the time he'd tried to make maple cookies and used Log Cabin instead of "the real stuff". Did time travelers get out of shape? He hadn't thought of it. Maybe he was just a little too anxious. Excited? No, no, there was a better word for it. Ready to kick ass…yeah. Yeah, that was what he was feeling: Kickassimus.

He crossed his fingers as the silver hardened and then began to fade. He hoped to whatever god was out there that this would work.

He made out shapes, blinking the last streaks of color from his eyes and found himself near a shady-looking alleyway. Had somebody seen him? Oh, yeah, that guy in the back. Eh. He was probably an opium addict anyway. There wasn't any alarmed shout, just a glassy eyes. What would Matthew do, start over? He' make him start over and then tell him about how horrible his report to the General would look –

He gave his head a shake. Matthew wasn't here. Imagining all the "constructive criticism" was not kickassimus. He was looking for another Counter now.

Out of practice or not, surely his jump had at least been _accurate._ Pale hair, pale hair.

He arched his neck. But hell, Hong Kong was _crowded._ Why hadn't anybody told him it was a seaport? There had to be hundreds of people, yelling and pushing. It should have been easy – find the white guy in a sea of Chinese people, right?

But there were actually a few white guys, and it was hard to see anybody when everybody moved. _Stop moving!_

He got on his toes, about to reconsider starting over when somebody else did the same. An amethyst gaze pierced him. A narrowing of eyes.

And then a shot.

Cries.

Screams.

The amethyst eyes were lost. Alfred turned his head, watching the parting crowd, revealing the smoke of a gun and the victory of a bullet. Red rivulets ran down from an ear to the street.

Alfred's hands tightened. _FUCKING SHIT._

Red Asian thingy, though. Red clothes, longish hair. That's who he was protecting.

He kissed his timepiece and tried again. He couldn't keep doing this. The Holes! He was supposed to stitch them up, not make more of them! How many had he opened? One? Two? Maybe it was thirty- he didn't know how it worked.

He took a deep breath and took another step back in time.

* * *

As soon as he found himself back in the alleyway, he let himself be swept back into the flow of the crowd. He had to stand on his tiptoes – shit, there's a whole lot of red.

He was just getting up on his tiptoes when he got pushed just the right way from behind.

Both he and another went crashing. Amethyst eyes.

Another gunshot.

Another cry from the Counter.

Another spill of blood on the street.

Another curse, another try, another Hole.

* * *

Third time's the charm, right?

He located Emil, the Counter, first. Then he raced after him. Which direction was he concentrated on? Left. Left it was, then.

He sprinted.

Somebody else shoved through, too, from the opposite direction. The oblivious time traveler continued walking, completely unaware that he was between either death or salvation. Alfred prayed that it was the latter –

An arm raised.

Alfred had been expecting the shot.

He wasn't, however, expecting to be the receiver of it. It went straight through his shoulder, sent him careening back, jumpstarted the explosion of pain.

Even through the shock of it, he knew he'd failed.

But he wasn't giving it up yet.

The fourth time, he ran. Didn't spare the Counter a glance. Went flying through people. Shoved right through and threw himself forwards.

* * *

He was looking at the sky.

It was bright. Really bright. The blue hurt his eyes. The clouds moved amiably along, shifting and sliding.

His stomach hurt. It wasn't the normal twisty, rumbly feeling. It was more direct than that. Like a strong, steady pulse in his middle. It was hot, which was weird, because he was kinda cold all over.

Horrified dark eyes peered down at him. There was some kind of chatter coming from their owner, but Alfred didn't understand it. What'd happened?

Oh. He did it. He'd gotten himself shot to save the day. Like a real hero.

A puff of air escaped him, sending a new wave of pain. He'd done it, he hadn't failed. The other time traveler had survived.

And was consequently whisked back by his Counter.

Alfred closed his eyes. He must have opened up a lot of Holes by now. He couldn't muster up enough self-hate to worry about it at the moment. Here was a Hole that he'd done right by.

And know what?

He was actually pretty proud of it.

"Who are you?" he heard the Counter ask.

"I'm A-alfred," he answered. His hands fumbled weakly for his timepiece. "From tw-twenty first t-timeline."

He slid his timepiece around his neck, at least, he tried to. The Counter helped.

So.

Yeah.

That's how he ended up bleeding out on a kitchen table.

* * *

 **I beat Alfred up too much.**

 ***shrugs* whoops. I'm trigger-happy with first drafts.**

 **FORM VOLTRON!**

 **xxSveg**


	31. I IS SORRY I COME BACK

**I LIVE.**

 **I'M COMING BACK MY SWEETS.**

 **I IS SORRY**

 **STUFF HAPPENS YO**

 **I WENT TO COSTA RICA**

 **I WENT TO NEW YORK**

 **I GO VROOM VROOM**

 **I LEARN HOW TO PLAY THE UKULELE BECAUSE I CONSTANTLY SEEK VALIDATION**

 **BUT I COME BACK.**

 **Also Physics tho calculate my velocity if I through myself into Voltron hell.**

 **-9.8m/s^2, because it's a free fall.**

 **seriously though I'm super sorry I promised I would finish this and I am! I'm currently writing towards the end.**

 **I love you all! Thank you for all the comments, follows, and favorites. I really appreciate them, and I wouldn't go on to finish this if it wasn't for you! :D**

 **xx ya boi Sveg**


	32. Chapter 32

**I'VE RISEN FROM THE DEAD MY PRETTIES.**

 **Sorry for the long cliff hangar.**

 **In my defense, junior year was a brick wall to the face. And learning how to not park my car like an ass. And my laptop broke, so I had to rewrite the stuff I lost.**

 **But hey!**

 **I said I would finish this, and I am. No looking back. Lez go.**

 **Thank you all for encouraging me to finish :) The random reviews/favorites/folllows motivated me to get off my ass and stop watching BBC's Merlin (and procrastinate on my applications...)**

 **Love y'all**

 **xxSonoSvegliato**

* * *

" _Alfred!"_

Oh fuck.

His cheek was pressed to the wood. There was the slamming of silverware and the clattering of plates, the sound of a glass shattering onto the floor and the commotion of chairs scooting back and feet racing around the table. He heard Peter scream. Shit. Bad idea. Why had he imagined the kitchen table and not somewhere else? He wasn't that good at plans.

"Alfred," he heard over and over. "Alfred!"

There was the noise of a door slamming and then a louder, " _Is he here?!"_

He sighed. Somebody peeled his eyelids open. He thought it might be Francis. Prussia made gagging sounds, and he heard a stream of either French curses or prayers. There was definitely a stream of Italian curses.

"Is he here?" he heard again as footsteps went pounding into the room. "Oh, thank God."

"Emil?" Tino asked tentatively. "Leon?"

"Don't ask me. He went into this, like, complete fit at the Circle."

Relief cursed through Alfred like cold water, and sighed as it washed through him. So the traveler had been united with Emil.

"Hold on," the Counter muttered. "Move, Tino. Who the hell did you bring over as guests? Well, you, short one – no, not you. You. What's your name?"

"I'm not short," Arthur snipped.

"Okay, I'm-Not-Short, _move._ You and your girlfriend. Boyfriend. Some odd mix of the two. Whatever."

"What are you doing?" Francis asked. Alfred felt his hands under his armpits, hesitant to lift him up.

"What's it look like?" Emil snapped.

Alfred was removed from the chair and laid gently down on the floor, flipped over on his back. Through half-lidded eyes and the pounding in both his stomach and his head, he smiled grotesquely up at the Counters hovering above him.

Antonio managed a weak smile back, but Arthur looked livid, face red and eyes flashing. Gilbert frowned and kept swallowing nervously. Francis looked as if he wasn't quite sure what to do, face ashen. Alfred dimly noted him clutching onto Arthur's arm, as if he wouldn't be able to stand without it. Lovino…he didn't even know if Lovino was looking at him. His head was being tossed in a blur of movement, hands ripping through the air and mouth spouting an incoherent tangle of curses.

"Move back," Emil repeated. "I've got this."

Alfred closed his eyes as a cold feeling washed over him. It wasn't unpleasant. No, no, more like…like jumping into cold water on a hot day. Or drinking ice water. Or – or – a slushie. Yeah, but he was swimming in it. No, he was slushie. Was his blood slushie? Yeah. His blood and everything else. The world was slushie. Blue slushie. Red slushie. Some mixture of the two, purple slushie, but he liked lemonade slushies a lot too, so maybe he was purple lemonade slushie.

"I am purple lemonade slushie," he murmured.

"Did he hit his head?" Leon asked.

"Unfortunately: no," Emil answered with a note of distaste. "Just…weird. Good god, can I wash my hands? My brain? His mind…good god, good god!"

"What's wrong with it? You, like, see it?"

"Slippery." Emil shuddered, and then gagged. "Alright. Alright, god, he smells like a rotting –" he heaved, braced himself on the floor.

Leon make a clicking noise, looking down at his Counter. "You, like, gonna get up or what?"

"Yes," Emil breathed onto the floor. But the scent of the traveler turned his stomach over, went up his nose and spun his brain, round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round –

"Fuck," Leon muttered, rolling his eyes. "You did it again."

"No," his Counter moaned. "No, I only just brushed it… it was so slippery…"

"What is it?" Gilbert asked.

The traveler didn't even look up, just picked his Counter up and slung him over his shoulder. "He totally just touched your friend's head, that's all." And he went out into the living room, where Tino waited head poking in through the doorway.

"Arthur –"

"The timey's got his timepiece, Francis."

"Arthur, _mon ami,_ please."

"I thought I gave you Alfred's timepiece. With special instructions on what you should do with it. Which was nothing but to keep it safe."

"And it _is_ safe, safe in its owner's hands –"

"When it's safer in mine," Arthur snapped. "Do you know how many Holes he could have possibly opened up?" He leaned down, hand outstretched for the chain peeking out from Alfred's bloodied shirt.

Alfred's eyes snapped open and he jerked back. "Slushie!"

"OH MY GOD," Leon cried in outrage. "WHAT THE FUCK, EMIL, YOU, LIKE, TOTALLY PUKED ON MY FAVORITE SHIRT."

"I touched it," Emil muttered in defeat.

* * *

Alfred had such a firm hold on the locket watch that it was cutting into his palm, the chain taut around his neck.

"There is no way," he pronounced slowly, carefully, "that you are taking this from me again."

"How can you be trusted with this?" Arthur hissed. His face was practically purple, his eyes hard like glass. Francis had backed up against the wall, hands over his face.

"Do you even know what I did?" Alfred snapped back.

"Got suggested unhelpfully.

Francis flinched and turned his head, eyes squeezed shut. Alfred made sure not to look at him, else the guilt eat him.

He waved his hand and got to his feet, scowling at his bloodstained shirt. "Well, I mean –"

"You mean _what?"_ Arthur snapped. "How many Holes did you open up, timey? How many?"

It was Alfred's turn to look away. Arthur took his chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. They were a terrifying, blazing green.

"How many?" he repeated, softer. More dangerously.

Alfred swallowed. "I don't know. I – I used it more than a few times."

He couldn't stand the disappointment on Antonio's face, the shame on Francis', the raw anger on Gilbert's and rage on Lovino's. It made his gut twist. He had just done what was right…surely it was okay to – to – to –

Arthur's face was beet red. Normally he would have found it funny, but now he was scared.

The Englishman jabbed a finger into his chest. "You – _you_ are going to be the one who causes time as we know it to collapse into itself."

It hurt him, and Arthur knew it.

"I was – the Axis –"

"I thought you were _helping us."_

"I am, honest –"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Antonio shake his head. "That's not helping, _amigo._ That's not helping at all."

"I thought I could _trust you,"_ Arthur continued. "Instead, you –"

"Totally saved my life?" Leon stood in the doorway, shirtless, with only his Counter's jacket pulled over his shoulders. He gave Alfred's back a hearty pat. "Thanks, dude."

Alfred held out his arms. "See? If you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to him – before, he was dead as a doornail!"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. Alfred took it as permission to continue.

"The Axis killed him before his Counter could get to him. I was just going to fix it. I couldn't just let him _die."_

Arthur's eyes slid to Leon's. The traveler shrugged.

"I was walking down the street when he got shot in front of me. It was totally scarring." He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

Alfred pretended not to see Lovino's eyes narrow.

"It's true," the traveler protested. "This dude goes BAM!" - he made a finger gun at Leon - "and if I didn't go and - you know - _do something,_ he would have -"

"Died, yes," Arthur spat. "We've gotten that."

Alfred's face fell.

"It doesn't justify what you've done."

He looked to his shoes, hand clenched around his timepiece. Some part of him wanted to scream and scream and scream at them to understand. But his throat was too tight, and the only sound he made out was a 'please' so quiet and strangled that no one heard it.

His timepiece was his whole life, and it was cursed.

He was cursed.

Arthur shook his head and muttered something unintelligible before turning away.

"I'm sorry," Alfred mumbled, apology weak and strained.

Arthur waved him off. Francis pointedly turned his face away.

The traveler pursed his lips.

"Hey, now, that's, like -" Leon tried, but Alfred just smiled at him before brushing past and letting himself out the front door.

Alfred needed to apologize to Peter, explain what happened, and to Berwald and Tino for scarring their child and bleeding all over their kitchen table. But he couldn't. The words were stuck in his throat.

He shuddered on the front stoop, face pressed to his knees and hands wrapped around his shins. His timepiece was outside his shirt, dangling under his nose. It felt as if it taunted him.

Alfred brushed over its nicked, silver face.

A sense of deja vù came over him, and a bitter smile twitched at his mouth as he brushed the three overlapping lines with his thumb.

Matthew's watch was heavy in his pocket.

He took it out and, examining its still ebony hands, wondered exactly what Matthew would think of him now. Would he think him a villain, too?

The watch didn't give him an answer, and a sigh escaped his lips.


End file.
